


Deja Brew

by hghrules (spacegaysgettingspacelaid)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Ableist Language, Actor Roman, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Asexual Character, Bad Puns, Big Bang Challenge, Dissociation, Fanart, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Funny, Gender Dysphoria, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Remy, Homophobic Language, Legal Drama, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Parent Death, Past Domestic Violence, Swearing, Thomas Sanders Storytime Big Bang Challenge, Trans Male Character, Trans Roman, aromantic asexual logan, coffee owner patton, coffee shop AU, college student virgil, deja brew, is the name of the shop so, lawyer logan, not explicitly part of the story though, transphobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 18:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15712596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegaysgettingspacelaid/pseuds/hghrules
Summary: (alt: Only Tired On Tuesdays)Patton co-owns a coffee shop with his long-time crush/squish Logan, and this thing that Patton and Logan have, this coffee dream… it’s good. Until Patton’s brother snakes out of the woodwork.Patton’s brother, nicknamed “Deceit,” hasn’t spoken to Patton in three years. Deceit is gone when their parents fall into a coma, and he's gone when Patton attends their funeral alone. But when something prompts Deceit’s boyfriend into dumping him and kicking him out, Deceit comes crawling back--and he wants half of Patton’s inheritance. Patton would be happy to share, if only Deceit had stuck around during the hard times; if only Patton hadn’t already put most of their parents’ assets into the coffee shop.Meanwhile, Virgil and Roman, both hardcore regulars at Deja Brew, see the trouble coming from a mile away--Virgil especially. Virgil’s abusive ex strolling through the coffee shop doors and behind the counter only confirms their suspicions.But this coffee has become a good thing for all of them--a safe haven for all of them. And they aren’t letting it go without a fight.(art: https://gothelixar.tumblr.com/ and https://happily-ever-roman.tumblr.com/)





	1. Virgil

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my submission for the 2018 Sanders Sides Big Bang hosted by @ts-storytime on tumblr! My artists are @gothelixar (tumblr) and @happily-ever-roman (tumblr). En-juh-hoy the gays!
> 
> Gothelixar's beautiful art can be found here: https://gothelixar.tumblr.com/post/177093424109/this-is-my-art-for-the-ts-storytime-big-bang and will also be spread throughout the story. Check out more on the blog: https://gothelixar.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> Happily-Ever-Roman's fantastic art can be found here: [link incoming!] You can see more by this artist at https://happily-ever-roman.tumblr.com/

"Gaslighting begins with a lie,” the professor drones, and every fiber of Virgil’s being snaps to attention.

The subject of gaslighting is one of the many, many reasons Virgil signed up for Introduction to Ethics. He’s been looking forward to gaslighting in particular, however, all semester; something inside him begs for _proof,_ an _excuse_ for what he did, what he _didn’t_ do… and he really, really hopes this class is going to give him that.

And then the bell rings. The professor looks almost relieved, which isn’t all that surprising when considered alongside the sorely disinterested and/or trouble-making expressions of the majority of his students. “We will continue with the topic of gaslighting on Tuesday,” the professor says, and Virgil feels a part of himself die. _Tuesday._

The students flood from the classroom, flying down the wide steps and nearly pushing the poor professor over in their wild sprint for freedom, and Virgil wonders how they can pay so much money for something only to avoid paying an ounce of attention to it. He’d bet his life--not that it’s worth an awful lot to him--that most of the students at this university have off-puttingly rich parents. Virgil’s not exactly impoverished himself, but he worked _hard_ to get to where he is today. He’s proud of himself for that.

Or, at the very least… he _used_ to be.

Virgil breaks out of his daze just in time to see the local know-it-all helping the professor gather his books off the floor. Usually, Virgil is the last to leave the classroom, scared as he is of getting caught in the surging crowd of sleepless students, but, he thinks to himself, a friend is never a bad thing to have.

Virgil misses his old friends. The ones that were always there for him, always… until Virgil shut them out. Until _he_ entered stage left and convinced Virgil he shouldn’t see his friends anymore-

But that’s a dangerous road of thought to travel down, and Virgil knows it. Anyway, he still has his sister, and he knows _she_ isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Virgil blinks a few times to clear his thoughts. _Stay in the moment. Don’t let yourself get lost in anything but **now.** _ He’s been trying so hard to live by those words. So…

“Here,” Virgil says, and it’s barely audible but at least it’s there. He’s handing the know-it-all a stack of folders before he can even realize his own actions, but Know-It-All just gives him a terse smile and passes everything over to the professor.

“Thank you, both of you,” the professor says, infinitesimally more expressive now that class has ended, and Know-It-All’s chest puffs out minisculely. “I appreciate it.”

“It was no trouble,” Know-It-All says cooly, and Virgil can’t help but narrow his eyes at the mismatch between words and body language. Then again, Virgil doesn’t know the guy all that well. He’s just never acted like the type to play hero…

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Virgil stammers, snapping back to attention. Know-It-All is giving him a scolding sort of glare, and the professor looks bored again. “Yeah, no problem, sorry.”

The professor nods once, twice, a third time just for good measure. Finally, he speaks up. “Please leave my classroom now.”

“Oh! Right, yeah, uh- Right, sorry,” Virgil murmurs, and his feet are carrying him to the door before he can even stop to think. Damn it, he wanted to talk to the know-it-all! His traitorous feet deposit him outside the door to the building and then freeze, evidently finished with their autopilot, and Virgil is suddenly overwhelmed. Was he too awkward? Oh, god, he stuttered, like, every other word. Know-It-All probably hates him now, and the professor’s gonna be more harsh on him after seeing what a failure he is-

“You shouldn’t apologize for helping someone,” says a deep voice, and the tone of it, the lowness, the calm exterior--the familiarity of it nearly sends Virgil to the ground. But he manages to catch himself before that can happen, and he’s left having just recoiled ridiculously far away from Know-It-All’s _voice._

“Excessively apologizing, flinching away from unexpected variables within or even hidden from your line of sight--these are all textbook symptoms of abuse, you know.”

“Of- Of course I know,” Virgil snaps, spinning around to face the Know-It-All. “I’m in the class, too, aren’t I?”

“Ah,” says the man. The low voice still gives Virgil chills. “You’ve found your voice, then. Is your stuttering strictly conditional? Was it the presence of an authority figure that triggered your lapse in vocabulary?”

“I- Man, fuck off,” Virgil says, crossing his arms. He tries to be subtle in the way he rubs his skin together, trying to provide some feeble sense of comfort. He wishes his hoodie wasn’t in the wash. He wishes he was brave enough to go out for the weekly Monday sales at the local clothing department to buy extras. “I’m not your personal- your science experiment. Go find yourself a rat. I’m sure your presence will be enough- it- your presence will be _plenty_ to give it anxiety all on its own, and you can study _that.”_

“Well, you needn’t be rude,” Know-It-All says, and there’s a hint of amusement in his tone that Virgil _despises._

_He sounds just like **him.** _

“I ‘need be’ whatever the hell I wanna be,” Virgil practically growls, and the man’s eyebrows fly up under his poorly-contained sidebangs.

“Of course. I am… sorry if I crossed a line with my questioning. I recognize that this may have been insensitive.”

“Oh, you think so?” Virgil scoffs. But then he sees the squint of the man’s eyes, the nervousness held in the fidgeting of his feet, and the regretful tip of a frown on the man’s lips, and he works hard to reel in his snappiness. Know-It-All says he is sorry. Virgil will give him the benefit of the doubt (stupid stupid _stupid)_ and believe him. “Sorry. It’s, uh… Don’t do it again.”

“Certainly,” the man says, nodding earnestly and dipping into an odd sort of half-bow. Virgil raises an eyebrow. “I am Logan,” he continues, and then he pauses and waits expectantly.

Oh, right. “Virgil.”

“Spelled like the Roman poet?”

“No, spelled with an _‘i.’”_

“Oh.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“No, no-” Know-It-All- _Logan_ winces slightly, covering it up with a cough and a well-timed tie adjustment. “I didn’t intend to portray disappointment. I am simply a fan of Latin literature, that’s all.”

“Oh, yeah. Uh, no problem.”

There is a momentary silence that cuts _right_ through Virgil’s resolve.

“Okay, gotta go,” he says quickly, spinning on his heel, and he can’t stop the yelp that slips out of him when Logan grabs his arm.

“Apologies,” Logan says, furrowing his eyebrows but releasing Virgil’s arm nevertheless. “I simply- Ah, I would like to request… a study session? I’ve seen you in the upper seats of this class rather often, and you always seem so attentive, I…”

“Okay,” Virgil says slowly. He can do this. Remy’s always telling him he needs to make friends, anyways, and she’s _all_ kinds of right. So if he can just get past this awkward phase… “Okay, yeah. Do you wanna- Uh, now?”

Logan’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, but then he schools his expression back into something controlled. “That would be satisfactory,” he says, pushing his glasses up, and Virgil wants very, very badly to call him a nerd, but he thinks it might be too early for discouraging nicknames.

“Great. Do you have a place in mind? Or, uh, your house or mine or-”

“Oh! Of course, apologies,” Logan begins.

“You apologize, uh- _excessively.”_

For a moment, Logan seems too stunned to reply. But then his face sort of contorts for a moment and adjusts itself into something of a normal expression, and Logan straightens his tie one more time and pushes those glasses even further up his nose and smiles and says, “I suppose I do.”

Virgil lets himself get excited as Logan leads the way.

☼☼☼

“Oh, boy,” Virgil mutters when they finally arrive. It was a short walk, only a couple of minutes from campus, but the name of the coffee shop is all too familiar-- _Deja Brew._

“Is this not adequate?”

Virgil startles, having mostly forgotten Logan’s company. The man is so _quiet_ when he isn’t asking questions--it’s eerie, almost. Chilling. “No, it’s fine,” Virgil forces out. “I just- My sister talks about this place a lot. She and her friend are regulars.”

“Well, if she’s anything like you, I’m sure she’s pleasant company,” Logan says calmly, and he only flushes when Virgil’s eyes go wide. They both freeze just inside the door to the shop. “Er- I didn’t mean to initiate any-”

Virgil can barely ignore the flush of his own cheeks as he urges his feet to carry him forward towards the counter. “It’s, uh, that’s okay. And she’s actually not all that much like me,” he says, forcing a laugh to carry the conversation on. “She’s always ordering these complicated drinks, whereas I’m more of an espresso kind of guy.”

Suddenly, Logan pales, and Virgil wonders if he’s said something wrong--though he has no idea what that wrong something could have been. But then Logan whispers, “Complicated drinks… coming in with her friend… _regulars.”_

“I mean, that’s probably a pretty common set-up for coffee-goers, huh?”

Logan tilts his head in a sort of so-so motion that makes Virgil tilt his own head in confusion. “I suppose you are correct, but- Well, there are two _certain_ customers I have in mind,” he grinds out, and Virgil can’t help but flinch back at the tone. Logan doesn’t notice, instead devoting his attention to the counter gate, which he quickly unlatches. Virgil’s eyes go wide.

“Uh, are you allowed to be back there?” he calls nervously. He shoves his hands rather unceremoniously into the pockets of his jeans, trying to stim himself into some semblance of comfort.

“I’m a co-owner!” Logan practically shouts as he pushes through an employee-only door with a large smiley face painted onto it, and Virgil fights to keep his jaw from dropping. Logan suddenly peeks back through the door. “What’s your sister’s name?”

“Uh, it’s- Remy. Remy M-”

Logan interrupts him with a very loud groan.

“So… she’s the one, I guess?”

Logan slips back out to where Virgil is silently fidgeting. “I can’t believe you’re related to _that_ disaster,” Logan says, and Virgil stills and narrows his eyes.

“Excuse you,” he says, a merciful warning.

“Oh!” Logan visibly swallows, and Virgil glares down at him. “Well, I- I only meant to- _Patton, Remy’s brother is here!”_

Before Virgil has a chance to really mess Logan up, which Virgil is vaguely aware will definitely wreck the tiny dregs of friendship they had managed to stir up, a short, red-headed man bounces out from the employee room. _“Virgil!”_ the guy shrieks, and as he comes closer (at a rather alarming speed), Virgil notices a splay of freckles across his face. Logan holds out a hand to stop the guy from launching himself across the counter at Virgil, and Virgil decides Logan is _at least_ half-way forgiven.

“How do you- uh, hi,” Virgil stammers, leaning further and further backwards.

“Remy and Roman talk about you _all the time!”_ the bubbly man shrieks, covering his mouth loosely with his hands. “Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you- Well, where are my manners? I’m Patton, and I know _exactly_ what drink to make you!”

“He is the other owner,” Logan supplies, waving his arm out toward Patton. Patton, meanwhile, is moving uncontrollably from station to station, shoving little yellowed cups under a machine as wide as he is tall. “What, exactly, do you have in mind for him, Patton?”

“A quad-shot of iced espresso!” Patton jiggles a metal scoop full of espresso grounds into the machine and then leans over the counter to whisper almost cospiratorily to Virgil. “Caffeine in its purest, blackest form!”

Virgil’s eyes widen slightly as he appraises the drink’s description. It certainly does _sound_ like something he’d be into… Espresso, but iced and without the decor? Jesus, how didn’t he find out about this drink sooner? Who knows, maybe he’ll end up at this shop a lot more often after this.

“Here,” Patton says suddenly, pushing a short transparent cup into Virgil’s hands. It’s filled about halfway with ice and espresso. “If you take too long to drink it, the espresso will burn, but you don’t seem like you care about that anyways, so take your time!”

“Oh, uh… thanks.” Virgil reaches into the back pocket of his jeans-- _terrible habit terrible habit --_ and pulls out his wallet. “How much-?”

“It’s on the house!” Patton blurts before Virgil can even finish. The man at least has the decency to blush at his rudeness. “Er, it’s just- Well, Remy’s kind of a V.I.P.--very important pal--and we never got around to making a rewards program, so- Anyways, you seem so nice!”

“This is a terrible business strategy,” Logan grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose above his glasses.

“The shop is doing fine,” Patton assures him, grinning widely. “I think we can afford to draw in a potential new regular with a tiny little _teaser, Lo.”_

Logan shrugs helplessly as he lowers his hand, and Virgil raises an eyebrow. “So, is it okay, or..?”

“Well, it’s already been brewed,” Logan sighs. “Espresso doesn’t exactly keep. You may as well drink.”

“Okay, uh, then… thank you. Again,” Virgil says, wincing at himself. Logan’s sharp eyes zero in on the small movement, and Virgil suddenly feels like a disappointing test subject. Still, he follows along as Logan leads him to a cute little booth by the front window.

Virgil isn’t usually a huge fan of seeing crowds of people, but there’s something about being separated, however thinly, without a decrease in vision that calms him, just a bit. Logan gets momentarily distracted by someone in the crowd outside, but when Virgil tries to follow his line of sight, there hardly even is one. The know-it-all’s eyes are flitting from person to person, and Virgil realizes, suddenly, that he is people-watching _\--_ an action that Virgil has been previously been told is _useless and creepy._ But Logan doesn’t look useless _or_ creepy; he just looks _curious._ Momentarily, Virgil wonders why that is. Could his “source” have been wrong? Come to think of it, that “source” usually _was,_ and not unintentionally, either.

Virgil is close to engaging in some people-watching of his own, when he is suddenly stricken by the draw of one person in particular… Logan. While Logan stares, unaware of Virgil’s attention, at the mass of sentient movement on the other side of the window, Virgil is drawn to the sharpness of Logan’s features, the coolness of his posture. Logan sits straight, but not uncomfortably so. Logan’s eyes are wide, curious, but not afraid. Logan’s head is tilted, ever so slightly, with his interest.

Virgil is enthralled by the… the, the _domesticity_ of the moment. Then, suddenly, he remembers his coffee and worries it will be cold. He looks down at the _iced_ espresso in his cup and has to snort at himself. “Oh.”

“Hmm?” Logan asks, snapping out of his reverie and looking up at Virgil, and Virgil feels his cheeks flushing with heat.

“Oh, noth- It’s nothing, I was just- Just thinking. Sorry.”

“You apologize too much,” Logan says. “It’s alright.”

Virgil can only nod mutely.

Just as Logan is finally beginning to riffle through his very heavy looking bookbag for a textbook, Virgil spots a flash of familiar color in the slew of people outside. “Fuck,” says Virgil, and Logan looks up at him with eyebrows raised. “Uh, it’s- My sister is- She’s coming inside. I think. And if she sees me with a boy, she’ll just absolutely lose it.” Virgil is already slouching into his seat.

“I’m afraid that won’t do much good,” Logan says, seeming amused as he watches Virgil’s attempts. “Those two usually stay for at least an hour.”

Virgil groans and crosses his arms. Great. Exactly what he needed.

After a round of very obvious bickering in an incredible accidental stage-whisper which Virgil is pretty sure he and Logan both heard perfectly, a short man with semi-broad shoulders and soft features approaches their table. His familiar blond hair is swept to the side, and the same sash he’s worn since seventh grade is draped across his otherwise normal white clothing. Bold move, given that he’s probably about to down an entire coffee. The only other splash of color on the guy is his eye makeup, some sort of gold and red masterpiece that Virgil wishes he could do. “Virgil!” the man says excitedly, slamming his hands down on the edge of their table, and Virgil flinches. The guy’s smile falters. “How was… uh… yesterday?”

“Fuck off, Roman,” Virgil grumbles, laying his head in his crossed arms. He sighs when he feels the booth dip with Roman’s weight, but he grudgingly scoots over anyways.

“... Right. Well, Remy’s on her way,” Roman says, his excitement sounding far more forced now, and Virgil _almost_ feels bad.

“Roman?” asks Logan’s low tone.

“Ah, yes!” Roman pauses. “Of course, you’d already know that, if you ever stuck around when Remy and I approached the register.”

Virgil’s forehead is still pressed against his arms on the table, but he swears Logan is rolling his eyes. “I have my reasons,” Logan says. “I am Logan. Virgil’s friend.”

“Tolerable to meet you,” Roman says, and Virgil can feel him doing a weird half bow while sitting.

Virgil finally lifts his head as Remy and Patton are strolling over to the table, Remy with her swaying hips and Patton with a noticeable bounce in his step. They stop at the table, and Remy runs a hand through her short hair. It’s colored with the gradience of a rainbow, but the brown roots are starting to show. She and Virgil will have another dye day soon. “So this is my big bro,” Remy says after slurping for an inordinate amount of time from her frappuccino. “Virge. You met him?”

“Yeah. Hi, again, Patton.”

“Hey!” Patton says, waving as he smiles, and Virgil feels a smile of his own creeping onto his face against his will. “I didn’t know you and Roman were friends, Virgil!”

“We’re not,” Virgil says.

“Childhood besties,” Roman says dreamily at the same time.

Virgil scoffs into his espresso. _“These_ two are childhood… somethings,” Virgil huffs, pointing between Remy and Roman. _“I’m_ just trying to drink my goddamn coffee in peace.”

“You lost your stutter,” Logan comments, leaning forward slightly, and Virgil fights hard not to let his cheeks flush.

“So,” Remy drawls, sitting down next to Logan and bumping him to the other side of the booth. Logan yelps in surprise and then coughs and straightens his tie. “You on a date?”

“No,” Virgil says, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. He can still feel Remy’s eyes on him, so he grumbles lightly and sips his espresso instead. Bitter. Perfect. “We were studying, Rem. So if you wouldn’t mind..?”

“Studying?” she asks, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Girl, you show me a textbook and we’ll talk. Until then, you’re gonna need a better excuse-”

Logan plants his textbook on the table, elbowing Remy over a little as he looks her dead in the eye.

“... Fine,” she sighs, lolling her head back and then sipping more from her cup.

After an awkward, fidgeting moment where Remy and Roman still don’t leave but Logan does genuinely begin to flip through the chapters, Patton plops himself down next to Remy, squishing her and Logan both. “How was class!?” he asks, his eyes wide as he taps his fingers against the table.

“Oh.” Logan narrows his eyes, glancing at Patton and then the register. “Satisfactory. Shouldn’t you be at the counter?”

“Well, no one’s in line right now…”

Logan sighs and grudgingly closes his textbook. “Patton. If you would just _hire_ someone, you wouldn’t have to worry about-”

“I’m working on it!” Patton whines, leaning over Remy to make puppy dog eyes at Logan. “I just need time, I swear. I have to find the right person!”

Roman’s eyes light up, and his posture straightens. “Perhaps I could be the one you’ve been dreaming of,” he suggests, blinking demurely, and Patton grins obliviously while Logan looks on in disgust. “I’ve been inbetween jobs, and it’s always nice to have a timefiller between roles.”

“Timefiller,” Remy snorts. “Yeah, and a _rentpayer.”_

Roman sniffs and ignores her, turning up his nose.

“Well, I’d love to schedule an interview with you! You come here so often, you’d be a shoe-in, I’m sure!” Patton says, darting back up from his seat. “Let me get Logan’s planner…” The bell at the door rings, and Patton frowns. “Hey, I’ll just text you later, okay?”

“Sure thing, puffball!” Roman shouts back, and Virgil tilts his head.

“He has your number?” he asks.

Roman shrugs, making a so-so motion with his hands. “I have his. I texted him once to say hi, so hopefully he saved my number.”

“Why..?”

“Padre wrote his number on Roman’s cup,” Remy explains, twirling her hair in boredom.

Logan narrows his eyes. “Did he realize he was flirting with you?”

“Absolutely not,” Roman chuckles.

“Can we please just study,” Virgil groans.

“Fine, whatever,” Remy huffs, finally standing, and Roman glances at Virgil in a way that can only be described as ‘longing,’ standing nevertheless. Virgil glares at him, and Remy rolls her eyes. “We’ll find another booth. Have fun with your nerd stuff.”

“Will do,” Virgil mumbles, and Logan opens the textbook again.

They make it about an hour, which is honestly more than Virgil expected. He feels like he genuinely knows the content better now, and he makes sure to tell Logan so. Logan looks ecstatic.

“Fantastic! In that case, perhaps we should consider making this a regular outing…” He frowns. “Virgil?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you… in need of rest?”

“No.”

Virgil is drifting off already, despite his words. He’s got his arms crossed on the table again, his head resting on its side on top of them, and his eyes are beginning to droop. The quad-shot was sucked dry thirty minutes ago. Surprising it didn’t keep him up longer.

“Ah… Virgil?”

“Jus’ a sec,” Virgil breathes, and Logan waits for multiple seconds. He waits, and Virgil’s breathing quickly evens out into something more regular.

“The content wasn’t _that_ difficult, was it?” Logan mutters to himself, and then he startles slightly as Virgil’s… sister appears standing beside him.

“He doesn’t sleep on Mondays,” Remy says, looking down at Virgil’s peaceful face in disapproval. “He’s just _constantly_ on edge.”

“Why?” asks Patton, who has just now joined the group, and Logan notices him looking at Virgil with way too much concern. Maybe this _will_ become a regular outing.

“Many things… _happened,”_ Roman says softly as he slowly sits down beside Virgil. Patton frowns and scurries off into the employee’s only room, and Logan glances at his watch. They close in half an hour.

Remy is apparently much more observant than Logan had previously assumed, because she speaks up almost immediately. “I’ll get him home. Don’t worry, we won’t keep you.”

“No, no!” Patton says, barely keeping his tone quiet as he rushes back from behind the counter. He lifts a large, quilted blanket, one Logan recognizes as Patton’s mother’s, and Logan sighs. Well, that’s that. Patton’s attached. This is definitely becoming a regular outing. “He can stay here,” Patton offers, draping the blanket over Virgil’s back and gently tucking it under his arms.

“We live upstairs,” Logan sighs, submitting to the madness. “I can carry him up to my bed and simply sleep in Patton’s room.”

“Definitely not, babe,” Remy says, shaking her head. “Waking up in a stranger’s bed? Yeah, no. He’d go crazy.”

“Well, then he can just rest down here in the shop. Logan and I will camp out down here, too, so he doesn’t get scared when he wakes up.” Patton’s eyes light up, and he turns to Logan. The redhead is nearly _shaking_ with excitement. “Lo, oh my god, it’s like a sleepover!”

Remy isn’t voicing any concerns, so Logan sighs again. “I suppose,” he says, watching the subtle rise and fall of Virgil’s form. “Though I have another class quite early tomorrow.”

“So does Virge,” Remy supplies. “You can walk to campus together.” She runs a hand through her hair, which Logan is beginning to theorize is a subtle sign of stress for her. “We better get going. I need double the time to get back to the apartment before dark, just in case I get lost.”

“And you definitely will unless I walk you,” Roman says under his breath, and Remy shoots him a glare. Roman smiles innocently.

“Then…” Remy looks up at Logan and then Patton. “Take care of him, okay?”

“Will do!” Patton says, his eyes on Virgil, and Remy nods and shakes her cup a little before throwing it into the trash.

“Nice. Roman, you coming?” she asks, already heading towards the door.

“Sleep tight, Virge,” Roman whispers, and then his eyes snap up to follow Remy, and he chases her out the door.

Patton is giving Logan the _strangest_ look.

“You don’t even know him,” Logan says.

Patton smiles.

“We don’t know anything about his life!”

Patton grins.

“He could already have a perfectly suitable job.”

Patton is _beaming._

“... What if he doesn’t like coffee.”

Patton giggles and picks up Virgil’s empty cup, shaking the dregs of melted ice in the bottom.

“... Damn it, Patton.”

Patton winks as he throws the cup away, and Logan can’t help but smile, too.


	2. Logan

Logan is much more a night owl than an early bird. Still, he lives to learn, and he can’t learn if he’s in bed. Logan wishes he’d listened to Patton about his class schedules, but he had been so sure that he could keep up with morning classes. And he can, certainly, but it’s… unpleasant, to say the least.

Logan stumbles downstairs without having attempted his tie, and he is pleasantly less-than-surprised to see the espresso machine and coffee brewers already on. If Patton wasn’t such a productive early riser, Logan would feel  _ much  _ worse about sleeping in so often. But Patton is, indeed, a godsend, and Logan lets his eyes fall shut for a couple of moments as he levels the espresso grouphead into the machine.

“Isn’t he adorable?” comes Patton’s voice, and Logan’s eyes snap open. He places his hand over his heart as he leans his head back and glances over at Patton right beside him.

“Jesus, Pat.”

“Scared you?” Patton asks playfully, pushing Logan’s hand off the grouphead and taking the now-filled espresso cup to pour into a cup of brewed coffee.

“I could’ve completed the drink myself,” Logan grumbles.

“You were burning the espresso,” Patton laughs, his back turned as he stirs Logan’s depth charge. “Can you make another quad-shot for Virgil? He seemed to like it yesterday.”

Logan sighs and stretches his back before putting another couple of groupheads into the espresso machine. “This can’t be the healthiest approach to college.”

“Watch yourself, Lo,” Patton says, pointing a finger at him and trying to look stern. A smile cracks through anyways. “You’re a lawyer, not a doctor.”

“I’m neither at the moment,” Logan sighs, but, before he can spiral, Patton is leaning against his shoulder. “Oh.” He chuckles. “Good morning, Pat.”

“G’mornin’, Lo,” Patton sighs, turning and wrapping his arms around Logan’s neck, and Logan thinks waking up this morning might have been worth it. “How’d you sleep?”

“Well enough, though I wouldn’t suggest another night on those booths. You?”

“I was worried about Virgil,” the redhead admits, leaning even more heavily upon Logan. “He slept so restlessly.”

Logan frowns. “You gave him your mother’s quilt.”

“Yeah. He looked like he needed some comfort, but not like he wanted to be hugged, so…”

“He could’ve taken off with it in the night.”

“And why would he do that?” Patton asks, sounding playfully exasperated. “What’s his motive, Mr. Lawyer?”

“I should’ve stayed an interpreter,” Logan groans good-naturedly. “There were fewer shades thrown.”

“Mm,” Patton hums, avoiding comment.

“What, did I use it incorrectly?”

“Mm!” Patton hums again, breaking into laughter as he pulls Logan’s espresso cups out from under the machine again. “Burning the espresso!”

“Dammit,” Logan sighs, but he’s smiling and he knows it.

“Wakey wakey, espresso and- Aw, I should’ve made bacon!” Patton pouts, setting down Virgil’s cup on the table in front of him, and Virgil jolts awake upon being shaken. “Hey, kiddo!”

“What-” Virgil’s eyes go wide, and he scrambles backward, squishing himself up against the wall. “Oh, god, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“You’re all right, Virgil,” Logan says cooly, finally fixing his tie after he grabs his coffee. He takes a scalding sip and sits down across from his peer. “You’re in the coffee shop.”

“You fell asleep, and we didn’t want to wake you,” Patton explains, slowly sitting down so as to give Virgil time to push him away. Although, looking at the tired man’s disposition, Logan isn’t so sure he’d take the opportunity even if given it. “Remy said you’d feel better waking up here than upstairs.”

“Remy- Remy was-?”

“We cleared everything with Remy,” Logan confirms, pushing Virgil’s iced espresso toward him. “Here. We have class in thirty minutes. I suggest you try to wake up.”

Virgil swallows hard and slowly reaches out to take the offering, and Logan only raises an eyebrow in amusement. He supposes it does make sense that Virgil would be anxious about waking up in a new place, especially given the clear signs of social and generalized anxiety that Virgil displayed the day before.

Logan knows he’s not good with emotions. He knows he has them, and he knows that Patton has them, and he knows that when Patton is sad, he is sad, too. He knows that feelings are meant to be respected, and he is beginning to suspect that Virgil could become a person whom Logan would not mind respecting for an extended period of time. In simpler terms: Logan is a fan of Virgil’s everything.

Yes, they only just met, but Logan has noticed Virgil in the back of some of his classes, has noticed the dreary boy who walks into class every Tuesday with a Red Bull. Logan likes him. Logan wants to spend more time with him.

Oh, god. Logan has a squish.

A  _ second  _ squish.

He almost doesn’t register Virgil’s words, but he manages to tune back in to real life just in time. “Thanks, for- uh, for the coffee, and, and everything,” Virgil mumbles, and Logan hums and nods in his direction. “Sorry for freaking out on you.”

“Your actions were understandable given the circumstances. And, really, you didn’t even do anything that outrageous. I would have reacted similarly.”

“Oh, I’ve never been more happy to find an unfamiliar man asleep in my home,” Patton squeals, and Logan winces but doesn’t say anything. Virgil runs a hand uncomfortably through his hair. “You  _ have  _ to start coming in with the sleep squad!”

“Pardon, the  _what?” _ Logan coughs, nearly choking on his depth charge.

“Well, because-” Patton smiles and then bites his lip, trying poorly to hide it. “Because ‘REM’ as in Remy as in REM sleep, and then Roman is always on about chasing your dreams, so- Sleep squad!”

“I guess,” Virgil says, almost laughing, and Patton glows.

“I’m glad you agree! I know my reasoning was kinda…  _ Roman  _ all over the place,” Patton says, no longer able to contain his giggle, and Virgil snorts and covers his mouth.

“I cannot believe I was forced to hear that with my own two ears,” Logan complains, staring with dead eyes at the wall ahead of him. Patton grins and nudges his shoulder, and Logan sighs. “Yes, fine. You certainly did… say a thing.”

Patton shrugs, taking that as praise enough, and then he smiles again as Virgil rises from the booth, half-drained cup in hand. Patton stands on his tip-toes to give Logan a peck on the cheek, and Logan pretends his face is not flushing. “Shall we?” he asks, and Virgil nods.

After copious amounts of waving through every window the shop possesses, Logan and Virgil finally leave Patton’s eyesight. Surprisingly enough, the silence does not settle--instead, Virgil breaks it.

“So, are you two dating?” he blurts, and then immediately blushes. “Sorry, I- I mean, like, not that I- I didn’t mean to be so nosy.”

“That wasn’t nosy,” Logan assures him calmly, though he can feel himself stiffening in anticipation of rejection. “It was a reasonable conclusion to make. However, Patton and I are not, in any way, romantically affiliated.”

“Gotcha. Does he just… Is he that touchy with all of his friends?”

Logan pauses, tilting his head from side to side as he thinks. Is he? Well, no, Logan supposes he isn’t, but he’d rather not think such thoughts so bluntly, because that’s when the anxiety creeps in. “Yes,” Logan blurts, but then sighs and rights himself. “Er, no. We are… closer than the average friends.”

“So you  _ want  _ to be dating?”

Ah, yes. Here it comes. “No. I am aromantic, which means-”

“Oh, cool- Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just- I know what it means, thought I'd, uh, save you the explanation. Are you QPPs?”

Logan believes, quite suddenly, that someone could hang the sun in the sky, and Logan still would not be quite as pleased with them as he is with Virgil.

“I would like us to be,” Logan finds himself muttering, and then he lifts his head in alarm. “I didn’t intend to say that.”

“It’s okay, you- I totally get it,” Virgil says, tripping over himself. Logan cannot tell if it is due to a speech impediment, anxiety, or the subject matter. “So why- If you don’t mind my asking, I mean, why  _aren’t _ you together like that? Platonically, I mean.”

Logan glances over at Virgil as they turn the corner and slip through the campus gates. The anxious man doesn’t seems to have any malintentions, and, for some reason, Logan feels comfortable enough in Virgil’s presence to share. “I’m not entirely sure. I suppose it’s due to my own cowardice.”

“Woof,” Virgil breathes, shaking his head. “If Roman- Better keep that info away from Remy’s friend, or he’ll- he will matchmake the  _hell _ out of you. Platonically.”

“You don’t have to add ‘platonically’ to the end of every sentence, Virgil.”

“Oh. Okay, cool, I just- I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re fine.” Logan is the most comfortable he’s been around anyone (besides Patton) in years. “Remy said you had an eight o-clock class. What is it?”

“Uh, I, I put off my natural science so I’m taking Astronomy now.”

Logan tries not to physically light up. “Fantastic choice. Astronomy is  _ fascinating. ”  _ He sniffs and tilts his head. It is not the time for a space-inspired ramble. “I have criminal law. Perhaps we could reconvene afterward? I know this is a lot of consistent socialization, so I understand if you choose to decline. However, I feel a sort of… connection to you, and I would like to encourage a lasting relationship between us.”

“So…” Virgil smiles a little, and he peeks out from under his bangs. “You wanna be friends.”

Logan clears his throat. “That is one way to phrase it.”

“That’s, like, the most common way to phrase it,” Virgil scoffs, but then he laughs. “How about we just exchange numbers?”

“That sounds… satisfactory,” Logan says, and they trade phones and goodbyes and Logan is walking into his substantive criminal law class before anything else can even register in his mind.

☼☼☼

This class is not the first time Logan has been introduced to the intricacies of criminal law involving domestic abuse, nor is it the first time he has been outraged by it.

“In almost every state, simple domestic violence is considered a misdemeanor. And-” The professor raises an eyebrow as she spots Logan’s hand high in the air. Logan likes this professor. She is one of few in this college with an actual love of learning, and, as such, she is always pleased to hear Logan’s inquiries and input. “Yes, Mr. Capita?”

“Is there a logical explanation for why simple domestic violence, which is more often than not a continued offense, is considered only a misdemeanor while simple assault, which is a one-time attack, is only barely a misdemeanor and is treated much more seriously and with much more punishment?”

“No, not a logical one,” the professor sighs. “Although,  _ aggravated  _ domestic violence and assault are both felonies-”

“And yet assault is still treated as a greater evil.”

“Unfortunately, yes. Fines for simple domestic violence in our state cannot be more than one thousand dollars, whereas simple assault can be up to five thousand. Jail time is an even broader difference.”

Logan feels his blood begin to metaphorically boil. He knows his face is turning tomato red.  _“Why is it _ that motive is not considered? Why is emotional abuse not punishable? Why is domestic abuse still considered simple and a misdemeanor when committed repeatedly and consistently?” Logan slams his laptop shut and tells himself to stay seated. For now. “Why is it that our country allows domestic violence to the point of extreme injury to be ignored or treated as a simple  _ misdemeanor  _ so long as no ‘deadly weapon’ is involved? How can we let habitual abusers walk our streets as normal citizens, yet open our eyes when someone is attacked singularly in broad daylight? In no world is consistent violence against one person  _ by  _ one person logically equal to one attack of equal injury between strangers, but our country treats it as such.” Logan doesn’t know when it happened, but he is standing, towering over the few students who chose seats in front of him, nearly shouting now in his passion. He swallows hard when he recognizes the attention he has drawn, when he realizes how many students have awoken from their boredom to admire the spectacle he has made of himself; but then he remembers his father, tired and with bruises scattered all across his upper body, and his vision stays tunneled and he feels his veins heating all over again.  _ “Why?” _

The class is dead silent.

When the silence breaks, it is the professor’s doing. She looks right into Logan’s eyes with an expression more somber than he’s ever seen from her, and she speaks. “Because too many people view  _ power _ as a concept more precious than human life.”

Logan feels himself sinking back into his seat without his direct permission, and he feels, quite suddenly, exhausted. His professor closes her eyes for a moment, but then she opens them again and clicks a button on her presentation pointer. “In reality, domestic is rarely punished by law regardless,” she explains in a monotone that is very unlike her. “And the court system only consistently recognizes cases which involve strangulation, abject disregard for human life, or a deadly weapon; even then, photo or audio evidence is often required, and victims are often shamed.”

Logan has heard this all before, so he feels minimal regret when he again rises from his seat, this time heading toward the classroom door. The professor does not try to stop him, nor does she so much as acknowledge his departure, and he is glad.

☼☼☼

“Oh, hey,” Virgil says when he exits the building, a few minutes after the regular thrall of students. “You got here quick.”

“I did,” Logan says, avoiding the details. He has a reputation to uphold. “How was class?”

“Okay,” Virgil yawns, and Logan realizes the darker man has, at some point, acquired an additional red bull to accompany his espresso. “You?”

“... Adequate. How much caffeine have you consumed this morning?”

“Not enough,” Virgil mumbles. “Could- How about we hit up your coffee shop again?”

Logan finds himself agreeing despite himself, and he makes a mental note to give Virgil decaf this time.

☼☼☼

It is a Monday, less than a month later, when Logan realizes.

He is in the shop, sitting at what has quickly become their favorite booth, talking to who has quickly become one of his closest friends. “If- If I fail this test, I swear to god I will yeet myself into- right into the sun,” Virgil deadpans, sipping his espresso.

“I would prefer that you not,” Logan says as he rolls his eyes and sets his own empty cup down on the table. “Perhaps, instead, you could yeet my trash into the can?”

Virgil levels his eyes at Logan with a look that portrays a higher-than-usual form of regret, but he takes the cup and tosses it into the bin anyway.

Before Logan can congratulate him on his steadily-improving hand-eye coordination, the two loud-mouthed banes of Logan’s existence march through the shop doors. The bell rings twice because they always space themselves out so that the door must be opened and closed a second time. Logan suspects they do it purely for his annoyance.

“Ooh, hon, I need a  _ good one _ today!” Remy practically shouts when she reaches the counter, and Patton bounces up to the register with a grin on his face.

“They’re all good ones!”

“That’s the attitude I like!”

Logan narrows his eyes, not at the exchange, but at Remy’s choice of clothing. Her style has changed drastically, and Logan has never noticed it before. He silently berates himself for being so unobservant. Have her tastes always been this fragile? She only has two favorite drinks.

Virgil must recognize the look on his face, because the edgy man leans slightly into the table and gives Logan a look that says “Later.” Logan forces himself to relax, trusting Virgil’s judgment.

_“Logan, the light of my life!” _ shouts a boisterous, slightly high pitched voice, and Logan winces. So does Virgil. Another thing they have in common: intolerance of a certain dramatic man.

Roman is sweeping over to their table before anyone can stop him, and Patton shoots Logan a wink before turning back to Remy. Logan sighs, rubbing his temples.

“I have arrived,” Roman says smoothly, bowing slightly. “Fear not.” He reaches behind himself and procures a small bouquet of lavender heathers from god knows where. “For you, Logan.”

“Oh,” Logan says, eying the roses distastefully. “How…  _ kind.” _

Roman’s smile droops a little, but he stands up a little straighter. “The lavender heather represents admiration,” he dreamily explains, “solitude, and  _ beauty. _ They fail only to appreciate your daring intellect!”

“All right.”

“Just… ‘all right’?” Roman asks disappointedly, and his posture falls slightly. Logan  _ almost  _ feels bad, but he’s been dropping hints for two weeks now. He is  _ not  _ romantically interested in  _ anyone,  _ let alone  _ Roman. _

“All right,” Logan confirms, taking the flowers and setting them carefully on the side of the table nearest the window and furthest from Roman. “I am not on shift. You may request a drink from Patton.”

“Oh,” Roman says, and he sighs quietly. It is only then, however, that he seems to register Virgil’s presence. “Oh. Virge, what’s got  _ you  _ out and about on a Monday?” he asks, general curiosity and disposure regained as he slides into the booth beside Virgil.

Virgil flinches, and Logan eyes him sympathetically. “I’m on a coffee date,” Virgil says vaguely, and Logan notes that he doesn’t stutter as much around Roman. Granted, he doesn’t stutter as much around Logan anymore, either.

“Oh,” Roman repeats, and then his eyes go wide and he scoots so far away that he falls off the booth. “Oh my god,” he says, scrambling to his feet. “I’m so sorry, uh-” His face falls, and Logan, poor as he is with emotions, can recognize the pure hurt in his expression. “The flowers were- They weren’t-” Roman huffs and runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Have a nice date!” he says, and then practically sprints to the counter to stand by Remy.

“That was- It was quite possibly the most awkward moment of my- my entire life, and I regret almost all of it,” Virgil groans, holding his face in his hands, and Logan chuckles.

“Almost?” he asks, glancing back at Roman. Roman is staring. He quickly averts his eyes when they meet Logan’s, and Logan chuckles again.

“Well, it pretty much  _ is  _ a date,” Virgil says, and Logan stiffens. “But hell if I meant to let him know that.”

“I-” Logan coughs, trying to steel his face into something firm. “I believe there has been a misunderstanding. I fear I may have ‘led you on,’ and-”

“Platonic date,” Virgil softly clarifies, and the smile he gives Logan is enough to make Logan relax again. “Uh. But if you’re uncomfortable with that, ‘cause, like, Patton and all, uh, then that’s fine!”

“No, I am perfectly comfortable with such a label,” Logan replies, and he feels so  _ at home  _ with Virgil, with nervous, careful Virgil, with calm, considerate Virgil, with intelligent, sarcastic  _ Virgil,  _ and that’s when he realizes.

It’s more than a squish. It’s his equivalent of love--it’s what he feels for Patton. It’s what he’s beginning to feel for Virgil.

Somehow, Virgil is easier to talk to--not because he’s a better or kinder person than Patton, but because Logan can be fairly sure at pretty much all times that, no matter the circumstance, Virgil is more nervous than Logan himself is. Logan doesn’t know if that’s taking advantage of Virgil or not, but he hopes it isn’t, because he feels his mouth opening before he can tell it to do otherwise. Impulses. How inconvenient.

Or perhaps the most convenient thing that’s happened all week.

“I would like to be your queer-platonic partner,” Logan blurts, and then his eyes go wide and he can feel his face flushing even hotter than it does when he’s angry, which is definitely a first.

Virgil actually  _ squeaks,  _ and Logan can’t help but appreciate the action.

“That’s exactly the type of thing I would like to be privy to,” Logan gently explains, leaning across the table. “I would simply like to be near you… often. I want to learn all of your habits and idiosyncrasies. I know we’ve only spoken for downwards of a month, but you have become very dear to my heart, Virgil.”

“Okay,” Virgil whispers, and it doesn’t look like he’s properly breathing. Logan is concerned.

“Okay?” he asks slowly, trying to convey that concern. “Virgil, please do not feel pressured to agree. If we continue on as normal friends, I will treasure that friendship just as much as I already do. I will not force you into anything.”

“No, I- I really like you, um, a lot, Logan,” Virgil admits, tapping his fingers nervously against the table. “It’s just, uh- I’m just, I think- Maybe we could go really slow? I mean I guess there’s not a lot of progression like  _ that  _ in a QPP, I don’t know, I’ve never been in one but like- I just- I need my space, I guess..?”

Virgil flinches, and Logan wants nothing but for him to feel safe.

“I understand,” he says, nodding along and smiling slightly. “As I said, the last thing I want to do is rush you or push you into a situation that makes you uncomfortable. And, of course, our relationship, no matter in what way, will develop with time, alongside a schedule that is compensating to your boundaries and ideals.”

“God, you’re such a nerd,” Virgil laughs, covering his mouth immediately afterwards, and Logan tilts his head and simply watches the motion.

Virgil is a  _ very  _ satisfactory human.

“Okay, yeah,” Virgil continues after some time to recompose himself. “Yeah, we- Um, we’re QPPs now. Good?”

“Good,” Logan confirms, and he’s smiling again.

“Um, wait,” Virgil speaks up, sounding nervous again, and he’s fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie. “I- I need to tell you something first. Um- a couple somethings.”

“Of course,” Logan says.

“I- I’m- Do you know what polyamory is?”

“The capability to love and appreciate multiple partners without feeling excessive or damaging jealousy.”

“Uh, okay, yeah,” Virgil laughs awkwardly. “It’s- That. And, um,  _ I’m  _ that. And I don’t know if that applies here, or if you’d prefer we stay- I mean, I don’t really know how this works yet, uh-”

“I am also polyamorous,” Logan says, smiling more widely against his will. “Er, polyplatonic, one might say. I still… very much enjoy Patton’s company.” He hopes he’s not blushing.

“You’re- You’re blushing, and it’s adorable,” Virgil comments, and Logan huffs. “But, yeah, that’s- okay, that’s good.” He breathes out a sigh of relief. “My last partner wasn’t… wasn’t… He didn’t like that as… as much as you did. The- Now, the second thing is less about me and more about- We can’t even associate if you can’t accept this.” Virgil puffs his chest out just slightly and forces his eyes up to meet with Logan’s. “There’s a line here and I’m not- No one else is going to cross it. My brother is genderfluid.”

Logan squints. “This is your ‘line’?”

Virgil stiffens and grits his teeth. “Yes. Remy’s gender flops around sometimes, and I support him wholeheartedly. If you don’t, then… then, um…”

“Gender is a spectrum. My entire life goal is to seek knowledge, and you think I haven’t figured that one out yet?” Logan laughs, and Virgil visibly ‘chills,’ sinking back into his seat.

“Oh, thank god,” Virgil breathes.

The shop is cooling down now that Remy and Roman have momentarily shut their mouths, and Logan is hardly surprised when Patton squeezes onto the booth beside him. Nor is he surprised when Roman and Remy are hot on his trail, but this non-surprise is considerably less welcome than the first. Still, Virgil smiles when he sees his brother, so Logan tries to be civil.

“So,” Patton drawls, putting his chin in his hands and staring at Logan and Virgil with big eyes. “I heard  _ someone  _ was on a  _ date!” _

Logan swears to a million gods that Patton’s hiding something, and he  _ hopes  _ to a million gods that it’s jealousy. Which, the more Logan thinks about it, is probably not actually all that ideal considering the polyamory thing, but…

“Yeah, I guess,” Virgil says quietly, and Patton squeals. Virgil smiles at the sound and dares to look up, and he smiles even more when he sees Patton’s genuine happiness for them.

“And  _ I  _ heard someone actually  _ l eft his house  on a  Monday,”  _ Remy says, slurping loudly from his drink. “What’s up with that, big bro?”

Virgil flushes, but he doesn’t seem nearly as uncomfortable as he usually does when Mondays are mentioned. Honestly, Logan will admit, he was rather surprised himself when Virgil agreed to visit the shop. Logan hadn’t even realized what day it was; if he had, he wouldn’t have ventured to ask, but now he is glad he did.

“I don’t know,” Virgil says, looking at Logan and then even at Patton. “I just feel…  _ okay,  _ here.”

Remy’s expression softens, and he’s about to say something more, but then the bell atop the door rings out across the shop, and Patton rises to tend the counter. “Welcome to Deja Brew!” he calls out, excited at the prospect of a brand new customer and potential friend. “What can I-” He freezes as the man turns, his black shawl and bowler hat becoming all too familiar as soon as his face is revealed.

“Oh.

_ “Deceit.” _


	3. Roman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: this chapter discusses conflict between Deceit and Roman, Remy, and Virgil. it's told through a flashback, but it still shows people getting hurt. take care of yourselves, friendos ^.^

Roman, while still not nearly as dependant as Remy, tends to run almost exclusively on coffee.

Or, rather, caffeine. In fact, there had been a brief period of soda and energy drinks alone during which Roman tried desperately to find himself and determined that he, most definitely a boy, could not possibly like the flowery drinks that all his favorite coffee shops offered.

He met Remy in his freshman year of highschool and he cursed himself for being so silly. The coffee addiction, with Remy’s encouragement, immediately returned.

As did Roman’s other tendency, which was to crush hopelessly on men way,  _ way  _ out of his league.

For a brief, brief moment that they both laugh about now, Roman had procured--from god knows where--a fleeting crush on Remy. Roman was (and is!) all for theatrics, but somehow Remy seemed… above that. Not as though Remy was too good for it all, but as though Remy was… worth more than some dramatic miscommunication. Roman couldn’t lose his best friend, the one who had helped him become so much more secure in his gender and sexuality both.

So they had talked about it. Roman had said, “My dear Remington, I am hopelessly in love with you!”

And Remy had replied, “My guy, most people are. But consider this: Don’t call me Remington ever again.”

And Roman had paused, unsure of how to proceed. Was this a rejection of friendship  _as well as _ romance? But Remy seemed to realize his mistake, and rushed forward to correct it. “What I mean is that I’m genderfluid, Ro. And Remy is… better, I like it better.” When Roman only tilts his head, Remy talks even more. “I just thought I should, like, mention that, since you’re gay.” And Roman’s mouth finally opens in realization.

“I don’t think that changes anything,” he admits.

They went to talk about it over coffee, like responsible teenagers. Remy suggested, surprisingly respectfully, that Roman would get over it. (After a fairly long coffee date, Roman agreed. But, platonically? He loved Remy even more.) Roman suggested that, if Remy was comfortable with such a thing, he could start wearing pronoun bracelets or something. Remy tried it for a few months afterward, but kept forgetting, and ended up just styling his hair accordingly in the hopes that Roman would understand. He always did.

Roman’s  _ second  _ crush, however, lasted a little bit longer.

_ Is  _ lasting a little bit longer.

Roman has been head over heels for Remy’s older brother since they were first introduced, about a month after Remy came out to Roman. She wanted help coming out to her brother, and Roman was happy to comply if it made his best friend more comfortable in her own skin.

Virgil was more accepting than Roman had foolishly assumed he would be. The all black outfit, pitch black hair, and variety of chokers and chains and spikes had put him off quite a bit. But Virgil hugged Remy and promised to do everything in his power to help her figure out what was most comfortable and how they could get to it. Roman thinks that’s when the crush actually started, when Virgil showed so much love towards Remy, and he admits that it could’ve been nothing more than an  _ overflow  _ of love for Remy herself.

But months,  _ years  _ passed and Roman’s feelings--surprisingly enough--didn’t change except to grow bigger and bigger. Roman watched from the sidelines as Virgil and Remy both grew more comfortable with themselves, as the monthly hair dyeing sessions were implemented, as Virgil let his hair grow out its natural near-black color and then dyed only his bangs from then on. Roman watched as Remy grew her hair out and pinned it up on masculine days, and he watched as Virgil, three years older than him, stressed over colleges and the like. More importantly, Roman was  _ there.  _ Roman went to some of the hair dye days, wrapped foil around strands of hair and ran bath water until it was clear again. Roman sat with Remy and Virgil as they both helped him weigh the pros and cons of various colleges. Roman and Virgil were  _ close,  _ even if it wasn’t always in a positive way.

In fact, it was Roman’s plethora of harsh nicknames that pushed Remy to first corner him in a coffee shop.

“My guy, you ain’t hidin’ a  _ thing.  _ Spill,” he had said, and Roman had spilled.

Roman got a lecture, first and foremost, for hurting Remy’s brother. (And if Roman winced at the knowledge that he had caused Virgil actual emotional pain, well, Remy pretended not to notice.) Then Remy relaxed back into his seat and looked expectantly up at Roman with this knowing smirk that fit his face so well, and Roman grinned and launched into a hopelessly romantic ramble about perfect, not perfect, dreamy, but so real,  _ Virgil. _

And then Virgil got a boyfriend.

Remy didn’t like him, and neither did Roman (for obvious reasons). But as time went on, as Virgil drew further and further into his shell, as Virgil ignored more and more of their texts, as Virgil left his and his boyfriend’s apartment less and less, as Virgil stopped going to monthly hair dyeing sessions because he thought his purple bangs looked “stupid,” as Virgil quit his job without warning, as Virgil started flinching during rarer-than-rare outings with them both, as Virgil started hanging his head and never so much as going online on a Monday, as Virgil-

Remy and Roman realized they didn’t just dislike Virgil’s boyfriend; they hated the guy.

For obvious reasons.

In hindsight, Roman recognizes that they took  _ far  _ too much time to decide to act. By the time Remy and Roman started  _ really  _ pushing for Virgil to leave, like  _ really  _ pushing- by then, it had been a year. Remy and Roman graduated highschool, and Virgil…  _ didn’t come. _

But they didn’t blame him. They blamed his  _ boyfriend.  _ Remy spat out the word every time it dared to come up in private conversation--which was rather often.

It wasn’t until a year after their graduation that the two friends finally managed to get through to Virgil, and it was barely even their doing.

It was a Monday. Virgil hadn’t answered any texts, calls, IMs. Not for the first time, Remy was fed up. She missed her brother.  _Certainly _ for the first time, however, she decided she no longer wanted to respect his privacy. She and Roman steeled themselves for his anger and defensiveness and they used the spare key Remy had gotten when Virgil first bought the apartment and they walked right on through the front door. The walls were thick, which may have been why Virgil’s boyfriend liked the place so much, but as soon as Remy opened the door, Roman felt like he couldn’t hear or say anything, anyway.

Virgil was collapsed against the counter of the humble kitchen, and his boyfriend was stood over him, smile soft and some bizarre, fake form of  _ loving,  _ with a broken bottle of god knows what in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil was saying, and Roman saw red.

But, apparently, Remy did, too, because she was between her brother and his boyfriend before Roman could even reach the couch. “You step the  _fuck _ back,” she snarled, looking up at him with not an ounce of fear, and Roman fell to his knees beside Virgil, figuring Remy had her part handled. Virgil’s eyes were wide with fear, with  _ disbelief,  _ and Roman felt his heart breaking.

“Excuse me?” asked the low, cunning voice they’d all come to know, but he lowered the hand holding the nose of the bottle.

“Get out of my brother’s apartment,” Remy said in the same tone from before, and she leaned forward this time.

“It’s my apartment, too,” the snake of a man said politely. Roman took a deep breath and tried to wrap himself around Virgil as subtly as possible.

“Not anymore, it’s not.”

“I pay the rent, don’t I? Virgil doesn’t even  _ do  _ anything. Hell, he’s thinking of dropping out of college!” the man laughed warmly. Roman tucked that sentence away for later.

“First of all, we _both_ know you get the money from Virgil. His savings and his commissions are the only things keeping your lazy ass around. And, second: your name’s not on the contract,” Remy said, ignoring the rest of his words. _“_ _ Virgil’s  _ is. You’re a tenant-at-will.” He was. Roman knew this because he and Remy had been frantically researching ever since they realized how bad the relationship had gotten. “You have seven days. Then you’re  _ gone.” _

“No,” said the man.

“No?”

“Nah,” he reiterated. “Virgil, don’t you agree? I shouldn’t go.” And then he reached out a hand toward Virgil and Remy  _ reacted,  _ pushing forward only slightly to provide a physical barrier between the two men, and Virgil’s boyfriend reacted, too, slamming that broken bottle against Remy’s arm. And then she screamed and Roman’s heart was beating too heavy and Virgil’s boyfriend looked so  _pleased _ with himself and Roman barely even noticed when Virgil was no longer in his arms.

“Seven fucking days,” Virgil growled animalistically as he shakily pushed his sister behind him, and his boyfriend seemed to realize his mistake.

“Oh, Virgil, baby, I’m so sorry- You know I didn’t mean to. She just moved so quickly!”

“No more excuses,” Virgil said hoarsely, and he swayed a little but Remy held him steady with her undamaged arm.

“Virgil, please, you know-”

“Yeah,” Virgil interrupted with surprising strength, and he looked up at his boyfriend with a face that was tired but in the most  _ productive  _ way. “I do know, Declyn. Get out of my goddamn house.” Virgil paused, shook his head and breathed out heavily. “My goddamn  _ life.” _

“You wouldn’t,” Declyn said cautiously, narrowing his eyes.

“I fucking would.”

Declyn sighed and began to turn, but then he whirled around again with his hand raised and Roman was  _ ashamed  _ and  _ afraid  _ and so, so, sorry that he couldn’t do more-

But it didn't matter, because Virgil has fight-or-flight adrenaline to rival that of a lion’s. He tackled his boyfriend to the floor in a way Roman  _ knew  _ Declyn wasn’t used to, and Declyn gasped and dropped that cursed bottle, and Virgil hissed and Remy and Roman exchanged an emotion-filled glance that neither could truly decipher and Virgil spoke again. “I want you out, Declyn. I never want to see you again.”

Declyn, at the very least, seemed to prioritize his own health. “Fine,” he gasped, and Virgil backed off of him, giving him a distrusting side eye all the while. “You’ll regret this,” Declyn said, backing toward the door. “You’ll miss me.”

“You’re not coming back,” Virgil said, and Roman knew that was the only thing he could promise right now. It was enough.

“I’m taking pictures of this shit,” Remy breathed, pulling out her phone with her good arm, and Virgil nodded with a faraway look and then fell down against the wall. Roman yelped and cradled his head.

“I’ll drive,” Roman squeaked once ample pictures had been taken and it had been discovered that they will definitely need medical attention. Virgil nearly collapsed again when he stood, but they helped him out to Roman’s car and soon they were at the hospital.

It was the scariest day of Roman’s life.

After that, it didn’t take long for Remy and Roman to coax Virgil out, little by very, very little. The first thing to reinstate itself was the hair dyeing session; actually, Virgil had started to agree to just about anything Remy said, especially after staying in her and Roman’s apartment for a week while Declyn gathered his things. Remy was careful not to take advantage of this, but she was also well aware that Virgil needed some serious help.

It’s been two months since Declyn left.

Virgil draws. It’s something Roman saw less and less of when Declyn entered the scene, but Virgil has slowly picked it up more consistently again. He does art commissions when he’s not frantically searching for a job that will consistently allow him Mondays off. That’s his one exception; he’ll do anything Remy asks… unless it’s a Monday, in which case his obedience is restrained to his house.

Roman wishes Virgil would talk about Mondays.

But he won’t, and all Roman knows is that they were never  _ good.  _ Unfortunately, Roman thinks to himself, Mondays are about to get a  _ whole lot worse,  _ if Declyn has anything to say about it.

Deceit, actually, as Remy and Roman had taken to calling him. Virgil didn’t like to hear his name.

“Patton!” Deceit says far too cheerily as he does a sort of half bow in his direction. Then the snake’s eyes fall on Roman. His eyes narrow. Remy. His mouth curves downward.

_ Virgil. _

“Oh,” Deceit says, his eyebrows flying up in surprise. “Virgil, my dear. I didn’t know you were acquainted with my brother.”

“Take a step back, fucker,” Remy immediately hisses, and Deceit puts his hands up placatingly and takes a single step away from their table. Roman notices that Virgil is hardly breathing, frozen in place with his eyes locked onto his ex-boyfriend’s dumb bowler hat.

Roman darts forward as quietly as he can and begins tapping on Virgil’s shoulder. “Four, seven, eight,” Roman says softly, tapping out the rhythm, and he makes desperate eye contact with Logan, who had  _ better  _ put aside their differences for Virgil. Luckily, Logan has become closer to Virgil in a few weeks than Roman has in five years, and Logan is quick to catch on, reaching across the table to hold Virgil’s hands and tap out the rhythm there. Roman breathes a sigh of relief as Virgil begins to follow along, and then Roman turns back to the villain in the room.

“You don’t belong here,” Roman says sharply, lowly, “and you are  _ well  _ aware.”

“On the contrary,” Deceit says, spreading his arms out. “I believe there is an  _ incredible  _ chance that I may be entitled to half of this entire shop.”

Logan pauses, forgetting the rhythm so his eyes can shoot up and meet Deceit’s, and Patton narrows his eyes and frowns in a way Roman has never seen him. Virgil is breathing too fast now. Roman shoots Remy a look, and she nods and takes over with the 4-7-8 pattern.

“Incorrect,” Logan says, standing up and smoothing out his tie. When he looks up, it is with eyes that are filled with ice. “I am the co-owner of this establishment, and we have  _ never  _ sold shares.”

“Oh?” Deceit smiles innocently at Patton. “Hmm. Well, I was  _ under the impression  _ that my half of our inheritance was spent on this place. So perhaps you will have to do more  _ sharing  _ than you initially expected.”

“What- That’s not what I-” Logan huffs. “What are your grounds?”

Patton lets out a half-hearted giggle.

“My  _ grounds  _ are that my sweet, sweet parents died,” Deceit coos sadly. “And dear old Patton never called me about it!”

Patton frowns. “I called you  _ lots  _ of times, Declyn. You never answered the phone. Our only contact was when you texted me to tell me you didn’t care, you had found yourself something more profitable than our parents,” he says bitterly, crossing his arms.

“Profitable?” Virgil squeaks, looking up at Patton, and Patton’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, no, I- You’re not saying that-”

“Patton, this is my boyfriend, Virgil. Virgil,” Deceit purrs, “this is my brother, Patton.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Virgil says weakly, and Patton’s face turns red.

“You- You  _used _ him!” Patton shrieks, and Logan sends an apologetic smile to the remaining customers, who nod understandingly and quickly head out the door. Roman is glad their consumer base is so regular. “You used sweet little Virgil who would never hurt a soul and you- you-”

Deceit examines his fingernails.

“Say something,” Patton begs, his voice cracking in desperation, and Roman doesn’t know what to feel or how to feel it.

“Honestly,  _ Patton,”  _ Deceit says sweetly, “I think my business with Virgil is ours alone. In fact, why don’t he and I have our own little private chat out back, to smooth things over?”

Virgil is shaking, and Roman sees red. “We aren’t leaving him alone with you,” he snarls, stepping right up into Deceit’s space, and Virgil croaks out something indiscernible but Roman ignores it. “I think you need to leave, you reptilian ass.”

Deceit gives him a look that says ‘try me.’ Roman plans to do just that. “This property is as much mine as it is theirs,” the snake says with his honey-smooth voice. “And it is not  _ yours  _ at  _ all.  _ If Virgil wishes to stay here, which he clearly does-” He smiles smugly. “-then that is  _ his  _ choice. Isn’t that  _ right,  _ Virgil, sweetheart?”

Roman is shaking, too, now. He takes a step back to psyche himself up to whoop this fool’s ass in the middle of Deja Brew, but then Patton pushes him surprisingly roughly aside. “Declyn,” Patton says, his voice barely containing his clear anger, “tell me you never hurt Virgil. Look me in the eye, right now, and tell me you never laid a hand on this boy.”

Roman realizes, with a breaking heart, that Patton is not asking for proof; he is  _ begging.  _

Roman realizes there are more than two people in this room that he wants to protect.

“I have  _ never  _ hurt Virgil.”

Roman growls and rears back a fist, but then Patton is less than a foot in front of Deceit, with his Deja Brew apron stained and homely around his waist but his eyes ruthless and cold in their sockets. “Get out of my home, Declyn.”

Deceit has the gall to look shocked. “Well, hold on, Patt-”

“Logan, call the police,” Patton says calmly, looking his brother dead in the eye, and Deceit visibly pales. Logan narrows his eyes.

“I’m going, I’m going, Jesus, Pat. The company you keep is so  _l ike _ you.” Deceit rolls his eyes as he steps out the door, waving his bowler hat as he goes. “I’ll be back tomorrow with my lawyer,  _ Logan.” _

Patton breathes out a weary sigh, and Roman runs a hand down his face. It’s been a long day. “Well, that… happened,” Logan says weakly.

“He’s here,” Virgil squeaks, and Roman whirls to face him. “He’s here, I- I can’t go out there, I can’t- I can’t, he’ll- Oh, god-”

“Shh, shh, Virge,” Roman coos, climbing into the booth behind Virgil’s and leaning over the top of it to run his fingers through the older man’s hair. “It’s going to be okay, my storm cloud. I won’t let him lay a finger on you.”

“Roman,” Virgil gasps out, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he shakes and curls in on himself.  _ “Remy.” _

“Hey, hey, I’m here, we’re here, babe,” Remy joins in, pressing closer to her brother. “Can you keep up that breathing rhythm for me?”

Roman sighs as he clambers back out of the booth and looks toward one half of the coffee shop’s  _ rightful  _ owners. “I… He’ll stay with me and Rem tonight. We’ll figure it out. Pat, is… is he really..?” Roman scoffs, shaking his head and trying not to make eye contact with his favorite barista. “I mean, there’s no way! … Right?”

“I’ll look into it,” Logan abruptly promises as he stands from his seat. “Regardless, there must be  _ some  _ way for us to retaliate, given his previous disregard for his parents  _ and  _ their estate. And I will find it.”

“Please don’t go,” Patton says all in one breath, and Roman tilts his head in concern as he looks toward him.

“What was that, Padre?”

“Please don’t leave,” Patton repeats, more slowly this time. “You all are- You’re my favorite customers, without a doubt! And... I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing I let you three walk home when he’s feeling like this,” he says gently, nodding towards Virgil, and Roman begins to feel that familiar overpour of love.

“Virge, we’re gonna stay here with Pat and Lo tonight. Is that okay?” Remy asks slowly, and Virgil only nods, his eyes shut tight.

“We can stay in my room,” Patton blurts. “All of us, if- I mean, if you don’t mind! Just, it’s bigger than Lo’s and it’d be comfier and I have so many blankets anyways, we can set up a pallet on the floor.”

“Thanks, Pat,” Roman whispers, and Patton gives him the saddest smile he’s ever seen. “Uh, I’ll-” He glances back at Virgil, who is leaning into his sister’s side with his eyes still glued shut. “I’ll help you set things up?”

Patton agrees, and then Roman is awkwardly following him behind the employee-only door and up the stairs into his and Logan’s home. It’s cute and cozy, and Roman would be gushing over its homeliness any other day. But right now the only thing on Roman’s mind is the haunted look in Virgil’s eye.

Roman had planned on practicing the lines for an upcoming audition tonight.

He knows that’s not going to happen now.

“So,” Patton says, clearly uncomfortable as he leads Roman to his bedroom. “You all… knew Declyn.”

“Fair warning,” Roman cuts in, “I know now that he is your brother, and I would never aim to offend you, but Remy and I have taken to calling him ‘Deceit,’ simply because Virgil panics when he hears his name.”

Patton swallows hard, letting out a forced laugh. “How funny! I- Me and Lo call him Deceit sometimes, too. Just because… He’s always been so…” Patton smiles weakly up at Roman, whose brain, however traitorously, chooses to focus only on the barista’s height. Roman has  _ never  _ been taller than one of his guy friends.

“Himself,” Roman supplies despite his mind being far from the present.

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it!” Patton laughs again, pushing open a simple white door. Behind the door is a room that Roman can only assume to be Patton’s, a slightly larger-than-average bedroom with a bay window that Roman recognizes rather quickly. He and Remy have discussed what a cozy place that window must be  _ many  _ a time. Patton has more than a few blankets and stuffed animals propped up against the window panes, and Roman can confirm simply by sight that it is, indeed, a comfy sitting arrangement. Patton’s bed is tucked into the corner, a king-sized fluff disaster that’s covered toe to tip in crumpled, wide-ruled looseleaf papers.

“Oh, sorry, it’s a bit of a mess,” Patton says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck before averting his eyes and scooping the pile of papers up into his arms. A few fall from the mass as Patton dumps it unceremoniously into a small, overworked trash can beside the wooden desk, and Roman bends down to pick them up.

He catches a glance of chickenscratch before Patton snatches the paper uncharacteristically sharply from his hands, and Roman’s eyes go wide with surprise. “Uh… sorry, Patton. I didn’t mean to snoop.”

“Well, that’s alright! They’re not super important anyway,” Patton assures him, but he picks up the trash can and hauls it from the room. “Could you pull some blankets off my bed and make a pallet on the floor, please?” he calls, and Roman yells back an affirmation and gets to work.

Less than a minute passes before Roman finds another paper, one that had apparently slipped under Patton’s cleaning radar. It’s crumpled and scribbled upon just like the rest, but it’s also buried beneath a slew of pillows. Roman tells himself over and over that he should respect his favorite coffee-maker’s privacy.

He uncurls the paper.

_ “This is my seventh try. I want to trust this. Today I felt:” _

Roman, by some miracle of self-control, re-crumples the paper. This is not his to read. He doesn’t know Patton. He doesn’t  _ have  _ to. Sometimes snooping is good,  _ needed  _ even, but Patton never asked him for his help. Roman doesn’t want to distance himself from Patton like he did from Virgil. He has, perhaps, never wanted anything  _ less. _

Roman lays the ball of paper on Patton’s desk, as gently as though it were a priceless gem, and when Patton returns and sees it settled atop his other papers like a trophy on a pedestal, he freezes in his tracks. “Roman, please- please tell me you didn’t read that,” Patton says, his voice weak and wavering.

“It isn’t my business,” Roman says softly, shaking his head, and Patton nods and takes a deep breath to dispel the tears welling in his eyes. It is not Roman’s business.

“I guess you and Off-Brand Siri will be sleeping in your bed together?” Roman asks in an attempt to change the subject, and Patton’s flush of nerves turns to one of what Roman thinks might be embarrassment.

“You mean Lo?” Patton asks, just in case, and he blushes even more when Roman nods with a knowing smirk. “Well, yeah! But it’s not- I mean, he’s not even- Really, I’m not even sure if he  _ likes-” _

“Oh,  _ he likes,”  _ Roman says, winking as seductively as possible, and Patton smiles and ducks his head. But then Roman frowns. “Oh, shit- er, heck- Virgil. I forgot, Pat, crap, I’m so sorry!”

“Oh, no, it’s okay!” Patton insists, waving his hands around wildly. “Virgil is nice! And Logan’s- I hope he doesn’t mind me telling- but he’s poly anyways! That’s about all he’ll tell me about any part of his orientation,” he sighs. “Which is okay! Just a little… nerve-wracking.”

“Poly?” Roman asks. God. He’s been in the community for seven years, and he still doesn’t know half the terms. Which, if he’s being honest, he doesn’t actually mind that much, but… still.

“Polyamorous! It’s when you fall in love with more than one person, you know?”

“Oh.” Roman blinks, and he feels his chest swelling. Not great when his breathing is slightly hindered to begin with. “That- That’s a thing you can do?”

_“I _ think so!” Patton exclaims, plopping down on the edge of his fancy bed. “I’m poly, too, I think. I mean…” He blushes furiously. “I  _ think.” _

Roman smiles fondly and lays face-up on the blankets on the floor, staring straight up at the ceiling. “Oh? And why would that be, my pretty Prince Patton?”

Patton giggles, and Roman swears he almost faints. “I’ve just got my eye on some folks,” Patton says cryptically, and Roman can see his shit-eating grin in his peripheral vision. “You know how it is.”

“I  _ do,  _ do I?” Roman asks, rolling over onto his elbow to look up at Patton on the bed. “Is that so?”

“I don’t know, Mister  _ Pick-Up-Lines Across The Counter.  _ Is it?”

Patton smiles like he’s winning, and Roman thinks he might be, because Roman would currently do literally anything for him. “You _were_ flirting with me that one time! Well-  _Regardless,_ I flirt with  _everyone!” _ Roman shouts, putting on an affronted tone, and Patton giggles again. Damn. Not fooling him, then. “Well, everyone  _ cute.” _

_“Roman!” _ Patton says, covering his mouth with his hands, and Roman pulls himself up onto the bed. “See, now,  _that _ was definitely flirting. I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s how the kids do it these days.”

“You’re not even that much older than me!” Roman laughs, leaning against him. It almost doesn’t hit him how comfortable he feels with this man he’s only been talking to outside of coffee for a month.

“How would you know, flirty-pants? You’ve never asked my age!”

_ “ Flirty-pants?”  _ Roman wraps his hands around Patton’s arm, laughing into his shoulder. “You’ve  _ got  _ to work on your nickname game. But, fine: How old  _ are  _ you?”

“Twenty-three!”

“Oh my god,” Roman breathes, pulling back to look at Patton with wide eyes. “Pat, Virgil is  _older _ than you!”

“What? But- But- But he’s my  _kiddo!” _ Patton wails.

“No, he’s not!”

“Is, too!”

“Is not!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!” Roman argues, and then pauses and groans into his elbow.  _ “Patton,  _ how could you  _betray _ me like this?”

Patton laughs and then sighs as he leans into Roman’s side, and Roman fights to keep his breathing even. Holy crap. Patton’s  _ leaning  _ on him! “Roman,” Patton says quietly, “thank you. I really didn’t expect to have to deal with Deceit today, but you…” He smiles up at Roman from where he’s tucked into the younger man’s side, and Roman’s heart  _ melts.  _ “You cheered me up.”

“I would slay a thousand monsters to see you smile like that every day,” Roman whispers, and Patton startles a little.

“What?” he laughs uncertainly, and Roman’s heart freezes right back up.

“Uh. What I meant to say was that I would…  _ pay  _ a thousand monsters to see… to see you die, like, every day!” Roman blurts.

Patton raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, no, that was a bad idea, I don’t know why I thought that was better,” Roman admits, slumping a little. “I said I like your smile, Pat. A lot.”

Patton smiles that damn smile again, and Roman swears he has spiritually ascended. “You’re cute,” Patton says, and then he jumps up off the bed and bounces out of the room.

“No,  _ you’re  _ cute,” Roman grumbles, but Patton is already gone.

☼☼☼

The night starts slow.

Virgil and Remy curl up on the side of the pallet closest to the window, and Roman forces a smile and fluffs a pillow for himself on the opposite side. Patton offers more than once to share the bed, but Roman doesn’t want to intrude and Logan doesn’t want to include.

They stay up for a little, chatting about the things that don’t matter, but once Virgil passes out, it’s game over. One by one, they fall into the hands of sleep, with Remy being the last to succumb.

Supposedly.

Roman can’t keep his eyes shut. Every time he closes them, there’s this clawing in his gut, this wild gnashing of something pushed so far down he can’t even tell its color; he can’t stop flashing back. He can’t stop seeing Virgil, previously so tough and sure, forced to his knees on the bloody tile of his own kitchen. Roman can’t stop hearing the phantom echo of Deceit’s charming laughter, can’t stop feeling the pulsing anger and fear that pops up every time he remembers that moment.

_“You know I didn’t mean it,”_ he had said.

Roman hates him.

And so it is that he finds himself rising from beneath his blankets, stepping carefully over Remy’s and Virgil’s sleeping bodies, and settling down in the seat of the window. It’s a lovely view of the city streets below, and Roman tries very hard to appreciate the lamplight casting beautiful shadows across the sidewalk.

“Tilt your head upward,” says a low voice, and, for a moment, Roman swears it’s Deceit.

But it’s not Deceit; it’s Logan. “Oh,” says Roman, rather eloquently. He internally curses himself. “Hey.”

“Hello,” Logan replies awkwardly. He glances around and then sighs and sits on the other end of the window seat. “You’re up late. Is this why you’re always ordering so many complicated drinks?”

“You’re up late,” Roman echoes, crossing his arms. “Is this why  _ you’re  _ always running away from me?”

“I’m not running away from you,” Logan scoffs. “I’m running away from your unnecessarily styled orders.”

“I- Really?”

“Of course,” Logan says, and his voice softens almost imperceptibly. “You’re not a bad person, and Virgil, however hesitantly, speaks fondly of you. I’m simply not as well-versed in frilly drink-making as Patton is.”

“Oh, well, thank- Wait! Virgil talks about me? Fondly!?” Roman asks. Logan laughs quietly, and Roman grins. “You know, specs, it’s… nice to see you smile.”

Logan pales, and Roman thinks he must’ve done something wrong. Oh, god. He doesn’t wanna mess this friendship up, he’s only had it for, like, two seconds! Do guy friends not compliment each other? Oh, god, is he doing this wrong? How do friends even  _work!? _ Remy’s  _ hardly  _ an ideal friend, being a total trashfire and all, it’s not like Roman’s had tons of best friend  _ practice- _

“I am not romantically or sexually attracted to you,” Logan says bluntly, and Roman chokes on his own spit.

“Jesus, geek squad, you can’t just  _say _ that!”

“I can’t? But I’m not attracted to you,” Logan insists, leaning in a bit, and Roman resists the very compelling urge to roll his eyes. “I’m sorry, Roman.”

“Well, don’t  _apologize!” _ Roman guffaws, leaning back to avoid Logan’s sudden proximity. “Dude, I wasn’t trying to  _ woo  _ you when I gave you flowers and stuff, I was trying to  _ friendship - _ woo you!”

Logan narrows his eyes. “That seems… unusual.”

“Yeah, okay, so it’s a little weird. But it’s just, you never really seemed to like me, and-”

“You’re exhausting,” Logan deadpans. “But, as I said, you’re not a bad person. You are certainly… above the realm of common sense, most days, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy your presence. Unless, of course, you are ordering another of your overly complex drinks.”

“Huh. Well, Logan… you’re not so bad yourself.”

Logan smirks and adjusts his glasses. “I am aware.”

Roman finds himself enamored by the mischievous sparkle in Logan’s eye, and he hates himself just a little as Logan smiles at the stars out the window. “The Big Dipper,” Logan is saying, and Roman comes back to life just in time to see Logan looking over at him with those  _ eyes,  _ god _ damn.  _ “Surely you can find this one. The light pollution is even mildly manageable tonight.”

“Um,” says Roman, because he suddenly thinks the stars might have removed themselves from outer space in favor of Logan’s eyes.

Logan raises an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should sleep.”

“Maybe,” Roman says weakly.

“Goodnight, Roman,” Logan says softly, and then he crawls into bed with Patton, curling slightly around him.

It’s quiet.

Virgil stirs, and, for a moment, Roman feels so desperate that he considers waking him up. But it’s late, and it’s  _ so  _ quiet, and Roman tries hard to think over his conversation with Logan, but, for whatever reason, the only words running through his head are the lines for his upcoming audition, the ones he never did get to practice.

Roman wishes he could feel grounded in his  _ own _ world, just for once.

A sharp tugging feeling in his chest pulls him back to reality, and he sighs and slips out of Patton’s room and into the hall. Patton left him with some baggy old t-shirts and sleep jeans, and Roman still hasn’t changed.

As soon as he arrives at Patton and Logan’s bathroom, Roman looks in the mirror. He immediately regrets it, as he nearly always does, but it’s so hard not to indulge himself. It’s so hard not to look in the mirror and see someone he’s  _ not.  _ Regardless, Roman takes a deep breath, and, reminded by how difficult such a simple action has become, he slips off his shirt and wiggles out of his binder. He slips that baggy shirt on before he can look in the mirror again, and then he takes a deep, much easier breath, and leans back against the wall.

He feels so heavy. Before he can stop himself, he’s pulling out his cellphone, scrolling to his third most recent contact and clicking “call.”

“Roman?” asks a tired feminine voice, and Roman feels the relief sag through him.

“Mom,” he says simply, and there’s rustling on the other end as he sinks down to the tiled floor.

“Honey, it’s 2am. Are you alright?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? I’m staying the night with some friends, but I’m stressing about… everything.”

“Don’t wear yourself too thin,” his mother warns, already sounding more awake. Guilt runs down Roman’s spine, but he shakes it off. He needs this, and he knows she doesn’t mind. Her sleep schedule is absolutely wild anyway. “You know your father and I are willing to spot you and Remy on your rent until you’ve got a job.”

“Well, I… I’ve actually got an interview,” Roman offers.

“Really? Oh, that’s so exciting! Is it safe?”

“Um… I think it might be,” Roman laughs quietly. “I know the owner, and he… he doesn’t seem like the type to judge me. In fact, I’m at his house right now.”

“Oh, well, that sounds lovely!” his mother says, and Roman can hear her bustling around the kitchen. At 2am. “As long as he respects you. I know the world is rough, Roman, but we’ve got the resources so we certainly don’t mind helping you while you find a place that treats you well. And how about that audition coming up?”

“Thank you,” Roman whispers, and he’s not even sure if she hears it. That’s okay. She knows. “It’s, uh- I haven’t had a ton of time to practice, if I’m being honest. And that’s a little of what’s stressing me out, but it’s mostly- mostly that I think I might be… in love?”

“With Virgil?” she asks playfully.

“And also someone else,” Roman says, and the words barely even make it out of his mouth.

It’s quiet across the line.

“Oh,” says Roman’s mother, and he flinches in advance. “That’s- Who is it?”

“It’s the guy who’s interviewing me and also his roomate,” Roman squeaks.

“Three!” his mother says, sounding surprised, and then it’s quiet again. But, after that short silence, she finally speaks up. “I… Well, Roman… You know the same rules will still apply.”

“...What?”

“They  _all _ have to meet me,” she says, and Roman feels tears pricking at his eyes.

“Mom,” he says, his voice staggering with the need to cry, and she sighs into the phone.

“Oh, Roman. It’s okay, dear. You will always be my  _ son,  _ and if I end up with three sons-in-law, well, the more the merrier, hmm?”

“Mhmm,” Roman sniffles. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Hey, thank  _ you,  _ Roman. I couldn’t ask for a better son. I’m  _proud _ of you.”

“You don’t know how much that means to me,” Roman says, and, before he can stop himself, the truly bad news spills out: “Deceit came back.”

“That’s it,” Roman’s mom says, and Roman feels comfort just from the confidence in her voice. “I’m coming to visit.”


	4. Patton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: this chapter talks about death! none of the main characters though.

Patton has been in Logan’s corner since the middle of second grade.

It started with their parents, Logan’s overly religious mother and Patton’s rambunctiously pure parental figures all converging in one disaster of a PTA meeting. Logan’s mother, who Patton’s parents were impatiently informed they should address as  _ Mrs. Capita,  _ was not happy about Logan’s new,  _ feminine  _ classmate. It was an all boy’s school. She sent her only child here specifically to  _ avoid  _ all of that “attractive femininity.”

“You got him out of a hellhole and now you’re throwing him on a path right back into one!”

“He’s our  _ son  _ now,” Patton’s new father had declared, leaning in close to the angry lady. “And he’ll dress however he needs to feel comfortable and happy.”

While the adults had continued to argue, Mrs. Capita’s son had scooted awkwardly across the bench to sit by Patton. “Men are not supposed to wear skirts,” he said plainly, shooting a disapproving glance at Patton’s own flowing skirt.

“Sure they are!” Patton argued, trying to frown. A smile climbed onto his face, practically against his will, when he caught his skirt twirling a little out of the corner of his eyes. He fidgeted more so he could see more of the beautiful movement. “See, I look great!”

“Oh,” said the boy, who then squinted in confusion. “Hmm. Please can you cite your sources?”

“Ummmmmm, what?” Patton laughed, focusing now on twirling his skirt.

“How do you know it’s okay to wear a girl’s skirt?”

“Because it’s not a girl’s skirt,” Patton said confidently. “It’s  _ my  _ skirt, and I’m a boy!”

“Oh,” the boy said, tilting his head slightly. He nodded slowly and then looked over at Patton again, this time much less scornfully. “That makes sense. What is your name?”

“Patton! It’s…” Patton winked. “Patton pending!”

“Wha- Oh. Is that a play on the word ‘patent’?”

“I think so!”

“Shouldn’t you know? You’re the one who said the thing!”

“Yeah, but mostly because she taught me it,” Patton said, pointing at his new mother, who, at that point, was rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. She smiled when she caught Patton’s gaze, though, and gave him a reassuring wink. Patton liked winking. “What’s your name?” he asks, tearing his attention away.

“Logan. Is she your mother?” Logan asked, glancing between the two. They certainly didn’t look the same, and Patton knew it. Patton’s new parents had beautiful brown skin, and his mother had long, carefully crafted cornrow braids falling over her shoulders. His father’s hair was shorter, unbraided, curly and close to his head. Patton, meanwhile, was as pale as the bathroom tiles, and his curly red hair was far more wild than his new parents’. He wanted  _ so badly  _ for this family to work, and it hurt  _ so much  _ to feel like he just didn’t fit because he didn’t look the same as them.

But his new parents had sat him down just recently, not a week prior, and told him all about how much that hurts. And, more importantly, they told him that it  _ didn’t matter \-- _ he was their son now. He fit just fine, and so did they.

“She’s my mom,” Patton finally confirmed, and his mother waved at him when he looked at her. He waved back.

“She seems nice,” Logan said, frowning. Patton tilted his head. “My mother doesn’t wave to me.”

“Why?”

“... I don’t know.”

“Fine!” shouted Mrs. Capita. “Let him wear the damn skirt, then! He can rot in hell for all I care, but no one can say I didn’t  _ try!” _

Logan’s eyes widened. “She doesn’t mean that,” he said quickly, preemptively rising from his seat. “She’s just angry-”

“We’re going, Logan. I don’t want you talking to this boy.” Mrs. Capita grabbed her son’s hand and began to drag him from the room.

Patton waved to him.

Logan waved back.

They were best friends after that. Logan insisted to his mother that he was going to volunteer at the library after school, but he usually ended up at Patton’s house with no volunteer job to be found. Patton’s parents always made snacks, and Logan salivated the first time he saw something other than health foods on his plate. He had nearly  _ cried  _ when Patton’s parents pulled out a jar of Crofters, which Logan revealed his mother had stopped buying due to some overcomplicated reason that Patton didn’t understand.

They stuck by each other thick and thin. When seventh grade rolled around and Patton finally told his parents that he was crushing on his best friend, they hugged him and told him they’d support him no matter what he did. Logan kept coming over.

Then his parents adopted another child. Another son.

Patton didn’t mind! He had always wanted a friend, a teammate, but he had already found that in Logan. Still, a second teammate didn’t sound bad at all! And then Declyn showed up and he was only a few years younger than Patton but he was  _ such  _ a menace. He didn’t want to be Patton’s teammate. Or, when he did, it was usually a trick. If Patton didn’t have Logan right beside him to point out the lies, he would’ve been tricked  _way _ more than he was.

But Declyn was still Patton’s brother, and Patton did everything he could to just  _ be there  _ for him. He showed up to any school event Declyn participated, he offered to bring Declyn along when he hung out with Logan and their other friends, and he left his door open at all times in case Declyn needed to talk. But Declyn never accepted, never cared, and, after so long of hearing nothing but lies from the boy, Logan took to calling him ‘Deceit.’

“He’ll come around,” said Patton’s parents, and he would’ve sworn they were angels. How else could two people be so unconditionally loving? He couldn’t be mad at them, even when he wanted to, because he knew that the same love they offered to Declyn was extended just as equally to Patton himself.

So Patton grew up. And Logan came with him. And they hung out at Patton’s house and avoided Mrs. Capita like the plague and vainly offered Declyn their friendship until, one day, Declyn made a bad move.

He had chosen, for whatever reason, to tag along with Patton and Logan that day. They were at the mall, and Mrs. Capita strolled around the corner. Patton dove for cover. Declyn did not.

“Mother!” Logan exclaimed, taking a shocked step backward.

“Logan! I thought you were at the library?” she asked suspiciously, a hand on her hip.

“We were buying notebooks for school,” Declyn lied, and Patton breathed a sigh of relief. Declyn wasn’t  _ all  _ bad.

“Oh? And who are you?” Mrs. Capita asked.

“I’m tutoring him,” Logan said cooly, yet another thing Patton admired about him. Calm, no matter the storm.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Mrs. Capita said with that fake smile of hers. “You should come have dinner with us some day!”

“Sure,” said Declyn, and then he  _ continued.  _ “But I’ll probably bring my brother, Patton. He’s dating your son.”

“No, he’s not!” Logan scoffed, affronted, and Patton didn’t even have time to feel hurt.

“Pardon?” Mrs. Capita asked.

“Uh,” Logan said.

“‘Uh’?” she mocked him. “Um, uh, yeah, so, uh, um,  _ explain yourself.” _

“Uh,” Logan squeaked.

“We’re not dating!” Patton yelled, bursting out of his poor hiding place. “I promise, we’re just friends!”

“Oh, look,” she sneered. “The little girl is wearing  _ pants  _ now. Finally.”

“Mother-” Logan began.

“Shut up. Patton, are you the reason my son has been gone so much recently? To- To sneak out and  _fuck _ you? How long has this been going on?”

“We’re not-”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” she said, her voice raising hysterically. “God,  _ why?  _ My son’s a  _ faggot .  _ What did I do wrong? Huh, Logan?  _ What did I do wrong?” _

“I don’t know,” he whimpered, slouching in on himself, and she took a deep breath and then a solid step back.

“We’re going, Logan.”

“Yeah,” Logan said, and then they were gone.

Patton didn’t speak to Declyn for a month.

Which, coincidentally, was exactly the amount of time Logan had left before he turned eighteen. And, sure enough, after a month of awkward glancing-aways in the school hallway, of no texts nor calls nor acknowledged existence, Logan showed up--just on time.

“I’m eighteen,” he said breathlessly, standing at the edge of Patton’s porch.

Patton threw his hands over his mouth to stop himself from crying.

Logan set down the small suitcase being dragged behind him and, with the slightest of smiles, raised his hand and waved.

Patton couldn’t even wave back, he was so caught up in tackling his best friend to the ground.

Logan moved in, of course; Patton’s parents had expressed their support more times than Patton could count. And so everything was okay, for the most part, and Patton and Logan were  _ happy.  _ Until two years later, when Logan and Patton had been enrolled in college for one year and Declyn had just graduated and reached his eighteenth birthday, and things cracked a little.

Declyn left. Fled the house and took, as far as his family could tell, nothing material except for a credit card, which he quickly maxed out. Patton’s parents called him repeatedly, as did Patton and even Logan at one point, but he didn’t reply. Patton’s parents paid the card off anyway, and they hoped, above all else, that he was okay.

A year or so later, Patton got a text. “I think I found someone so much  _easier _ than you all.” From Declyn’s old number. Patton texted him, tried to call him so many times in a search for context, for anything--but to no avail.

And then, just as the house was regaining some sort of equilibrium, as Patton’s parents smiled freely again and Patton and Logan laughed together and worked toward an apartment, the third and  _ worst  _ disaster of their lives abruptly struck.

Patton’s parents  _ died. _

It happened because of a car wreck. Some family too busy with corralling their children to watch the road, and- well. At least the children survived. But getting that call from the hospital, getting the news that his parents, the first two people to ever make him feel wanted, might never wake up again… That hit Patton  _ hard.  _

He called Declyn over and over.

Logan was nearly as heartbroken as Patton; he was practically a member of the family at that point, after all. But that heartbreak turned to anger more and more with each text and call that went unanswered, until Logan couldn’t even hear Declyn’s name without getting irrationally angry. Patton wasn’t exactly doing so great himself, but he was above water, at least, somehow.

Until Patton woke up to the flatlining of a heart monitor.

Everything fell apart. His parents left some of their fortune to Patton, and some to Declyn, and even a small portion to Logan, their honorary son. But that hardly mattered when Patton was staring into the cold, dead eyes of the two people who had shaped him most.

Logan’s anger fell away. Suddenly, the anger was too much effort to keep up, and it was so much easier and so much  _ better  _ to just sit on the couch with Patton and cry together. But as more and more attempts at contact with Declyn went unanswered, and more and more days went by bringing nothing but a quiet house, Patton and Logan made a decision.

They needed to move out.

The house was lovely, it always had been. But now it was filled with memories that were almost too painful to bear. They had been planning on moving out before the  _Incident _ anyway, and since Logan was about to start college again…

On an impulse, they bought a coffee shop.

But it didn’t  _start _ as a coffee shop. It started as a run down two-story yogurt place right outside the local college campus, and Logan and Patton just so happened to have the timing to snatch it up. They transformed it from a lonely, bankrupt disaster to a calming, homely shop, and they settled themselves in on the second floor.

It was a hit. Located as it was just outside a school’s perimeters, it was  _bound _ to be a hotspot. Patton and Logan both learned how to make the fancy drinks that Patton was suddenly so enamored with, and they lived and breathed coffee. Patton handled customer relations while Logan dealt with finances and the like. And it was  _ good.  _ The  _only _ problem was that Patton couldn’t for the  _ life  _ of him give up enough control to hire an outside employee.

“Um, so, have you ever worked at a coffee place before?” Patton asks nervously, fidgeting on his bed. Maybe he shouldn’t be holding this interview in his bedroom. Dang it, Logan warned him about this. Oh, well.

“No, but I’ve watched you make our drinks a million times, and I’ve got experience bussing tables and stuff,” Roman offers.

“Yeah, okay!” Patton laughs, and Roman’s eyes go wide. “Hired!”

“Wha- Just like that!?”

“Just like that, I guess!” Patton confirms, jumping up off his bed. He sticks out his hand. “Welcome to the team!”

“... My pleasure,” Roman finally says, and he smirks as he shakes Patton’s hands. Oh my god Patton’s going to die look at those eyes oh my god oh my god.

Patton clears his throat. “Uh, I think I have to make a schedule now? And then I can get you some training times set up.”

“Perhaps you should ask Logan,” Roman chuckles.

“I can do it myself!”

“Well, of course! But he  _ is  _ your co-owner, as I understand it.”

“You got me there,” Patton giggles, slipping out his bedroom door and waiting for Roman to follow. He does, and Patton starts toward the staircase. “Hey, do you have the time?”

“Ten thirty-two,” Roman answers, glancing at his phone before he slips it back into his pocket.

“Logan’s first class ends at eleven or so,” Patton replies. He pushes open the employee door and steps out of the kitchen, thankful that there aren’t any waiting customers. That’s half the reason he kept their interview so short; he doesn’t have anyone else to man the counter right now. “If he decides to drop by before his next class, I can talk to him then. Ooh, and  _you _ can talk to  _ Virgil!” _

_ _

“Patton,” Roman says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, and Patton pouts. “He doesn’t- I know I’m a pining mess and all, but I’m trying to keep my distance.”

“Well, kiddo, I can tell you now that you’re not doing as well as you think you are,” Patton says gently, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Roman groans. He lays a hand dramatically across his eyes. “I  _ know!  _ I’m trying, Pat!”

“Aw, Ro.” Patton smiles sympathetically and hoists himself up onto a counter that is specifically for sitting. Not the best design choice, in Logan’s opinion, but Patton thinks it’s cute. “I’m sorry.”

“Gah, you needn’t be,” Roman sighs, leaning against that same counter. His shoulder leans into Patton’s side, and Patton tries not to hyperventilate. “It’s my cross to bear, I suppose. I really should’ve gotten over him by now. I feel bad chasing after him when he’s so  _ clearly  _ uninterested.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say  _ that,”  _ Patton says slowly. He’s not great at spotting the difference between platonic and romantic attraction, but Virgil looks at Roman the way Patton used to look at Logan. Patton doesn’t look at him so romantically anymore; now it’s somewhere in between the two scales, more than platonic but less than romantic. Not that what he feels for Logan is any less than it was. It’s just… different now. Patton doesn’t even entirely understand it, but he’s never really needed to. He feels it, and that’s enough for him. “I think you’d make a good couple.”

“I hate that word,” Roman says suddenly, staring straight ahead, and Patton tilts his head and raises his eyebrows.

“‘Couple’?” he asks curiously.

“Yeah. It’s… too exclusive.”

Patton’s hand flies up to cover his mouth before he can let out that traitorous laughter. “That sounds awful poly, Ro!”

Roman shoots him a half-hearted glare. “What can I say? I’m gay.”

“Da buh dee da buh die,” Patton sings, swaying along, and Roman lets out a boisterously sudden laugh.

“That’s not even- It’s not gay, it’s  _ blue!” _

“Same energy,” Patton says with his best crap-eating smile. Roman scoffs, but leans into him further. Patton is working hard to play it cool. Can Roman feel his heartbeat? No, no. Oh god. He  _ hopes  _ not.

“You’re something, Pat,” Roman says fondly, and Patton feels himself internally faint. Is that a thing? Oh, it’s fine, it’s a thing for Patton.

Several minutes of idle chatter later, the door bell rings. It’s not the first time it’s rung since the two came downstairs, but it’s the first time it’s been the precursor to someone of relative importance, as rude as that sounds. Patton perks up as he usually does when a customer approaches, but Roman, strangely enough, beats him to the register.

“Dad,” Roman breathes, reaching across the counter, and the man--Roman’s father, who wears a soft-looking sweater vest and a soft purple tie--briefly lays a hand across Roman’s own in greeting. “Mom!”

The woman behind the man steps around him, reaching over the counter to hug her son, and Patton can’t help the soft smile that takes over his face as he approaches them. Roman looks so  _ happy,  _ so  _ comfortable. _

“Roman,” Roman’s mother says happily, squeezing him tightly and awkwardly around the register. “It’s been too long!”

“It’s only been a few months!” he laughs.

“And who is this?” asks the man, looking up at Patton. Patton gets the distinct feeling that he’s meant to feel intimidated, but he is  _ anything  _ but. This man, as tall as he is, has such an  _air _ about him--Patton feels perfectly comfortable.

“Patton Sanders,” Patton says calmly, offering his hand, and the man takes it and shakes it far more energetically than he was when he greeted his son. “Nice to meet you, sir!”

“Oh, so polite!” the man beams, glancing over at his wife, and she smiles encouragingly. “I’m Dr. Picani, but  _ you  _ can call me Emile.”

A doctor! As much as Roman hangs around the shop (and now specifically around Patton), Patton is surprised he doesn’t already know more about his parents. But now is as fine a time as any to learn! “Welcome to Deja Brew, Emile!” Patton says, matching Dr. Picani’s smile. “And hello to you, too, ma’am!” he says, turning to Roman’s mother.

“Emily Picani,” she says with a wide smile. “I know, it gets confusing. You’re welcome to call me ‘Em.’” She pauses, and her smiles fades only slightly. “May I hug you?”

“Uh, well, I don’t see why not!” Patton laughs, and he pulls Roman around to the other side of the counter and allows Mrs. Picani to embrace him. It’s not nearly as awkward as he expected, and it reminds him of his own mother. He refuses to let this subconscious comparison sully his mood.

“Mom,” Roman says, sounding embarrassed, and his eyes jump around to everything but Patton, who can’t help but smile in return.

“Roman,” she says in the same tone, but then she drops the act and smiles warmly. “How are you, Ro?”

“I’m okay,” he says, finally looking up, and he and Patton make too-brief eye contact. Roman is blushing. “Uh, I- I work here now!”

“Ooh, I’m so proud!” Dr. Picani squeals, flailing his arms a little but then quickly freezing and covering his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry! Plane landing jitters!”

“This is by  _no _ means an abnormality,” Mrs. Picani says jokingly as she leans in toward Patton. “He’s always like this. You’ll adjust.”

“No need!” Patton laughs, watching Dr. Picani try to school his face into something more professional. “We like energy here.”

“Good, because they’ve got plenty of it,” Roman says sarcastically, but he sends his parents a loving glance afterward.

A new voice pops into the conversation, accompanied by the ringing of the bell above the door, and Logan’s frantic face comes into view. “Patton, what’s this about a new employee!? You hardly discussed a thing with me, I don’t have a single schedule drafted, I haven’t even got a working excel sheet for employees because we haven’t  _had _ any before-” Logan freezes when he reaches the group, narrowing his eyes as he glances around at them all. “Patton, what is-”

“Logan, I’d like you to meet our new barista: Roman!”

Logan’s eyes go worryingly wide. “Roman-” He narrows his eyes again. “Well- Hmm. I suppose this  _ is  _ most-likely for the best. Now he can make his  _ own  _ overly complicated drinks. Let  _ him  _ feel the pain,” he says.

“Did you just make a  _ joke?”  _ Roman says, too shocked to be worried about his employment status.

“Perhaps.” Logan smirks, adjusting his tie and then averting his gaze. “And who is this?”

“This is Dr. and Mrs. Pican-”

“Lo!” shouts a flustered voice, and Virgil practically falls through the coffee shop doors. “Logan, holy shit, you can’t just dash on me like that- Emile?  _Em? _ What the hell?”

“Virgil!” the Picanis say in tandem, and both of Roman’s parents attempt to smother Virgil in a hug while Roman hangs back in embarrassment.

“Uh, hey,” Virgil offers awkwardly, shrinking in on himself but relaxing in their arms. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Roman was having a crisis,” Em says cooly, waving it off, and Emile gasps.

“Parent-child confidentiality, Em!”

“It’ll come out eventually, anyway,” Em says, winking at Roman, and Roman blushes even more. Patton has to clasp his hands together to keep from taking a picture.

“Am I to assume that you are Roman’s guardians?” Logan asks, looking up at the two through his glasses, and Emile rocks back on his heels and offers a sheepish smile. Em does not look regretful at all.

“Dr. Picani, call me Emile, this is Em,” the man rushes out.

“Hmm,” Mrs. Picani says overly dramatically, looking around with her hand on her chin. Roman’s eyes go wide. “One…” She looks at Virgil. “Two…” She looks at Patton. “Three.” She stares at Logan. And then, slowly, she turns back to Roman with a mischievous smile.

“Don’t you dare,” he chokes out.

Em doesn’t reply, only looking over at Virgil in concern as though the interaction never happened. Patton holds back a smile. “Now, Virgil, dear. I was told…” Her voice lowers into a whisper. “He’s back, yes?”

Virgil pales considerably and cozies himself up next to Logan, burrowing into his side as subtly as he can. Logan adjusts his glasses and pretends to be unaffected as he puts his arm around Virgil’s shoulders. Patton tells himself he’s not jealous, because he’s not. “Yeah,” Virgil says, his voice shaking, and something in Patton withers, jealousy forgotten. He cares about both of them too much to be jealous. “He, um- Talk to Patton,” Virge chokes out, and all eyes fall on Pat. Patton wants to hug the poor emo so badly, but he sighs and explains instead.

“Patton Sanders,” Patton says nervously, “as in Declyn Sanders. He’s my brother, and he’s here to collect his part of our inheritance.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for your loss,” Emile butts in, looking genuinely concerned, and Patton manages a sad smile.  _ He will not let this sully his mood.  _

“It’s…” Patton shrugs. “It was years ago. I don’t know why he’s back  _ now.” _

“It’s because he lost Virgil,” Roman says bitterly, crossing his arms. “Ran out of things to control, finances to steal, so now he’s falling back on Plan B.”

“Which, I assure you,” Logan says through a  _ very  _ thin veil of apathy, “will  _ not  _ succeed. He did not respond within the state-set time period, and, seeing as you would be both his next-of-kin  _and _ the preferred beneficiary of your parents, he  _ should  _ have no claim to your inheritance.”

“Should?” Virgil asks, sounding small, and Logan sighs, dropping the veil.

“Unfortunately,” he says slowly, “Deceit is a very… slippery snake, so to speak. His lawyers doesn't look particularly threatening, but he's done his research; on the state laws surrounding missing heirs, at least. And Deceit... he's good at getting what he wants."

“I didn’t get most of that,” Patton admits, leaning into Logan. Neither he nor Virgil seems to mind, and Patton lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“I know, Pat. It’s okay. I’m… going to take care of it.”

“Please don’t push yourself too far,” Patton pleads, latching onto Logan’s arm. “This _and_ college, it’s… Heck, Lo, I couldn’t even handle college on its own.”

“Yes, because you were almost single-handedly running a coffee shop. It’s outrageous,” Logan huffs, rolling his eyes, but he intertwines his free hand with one of Patton’s.

Mrs. Picani squints. “Roman, are you- Are you the  _only _ employee here?”

“Well, Patt and Logan work here, too. They’re in here a lot,” Roman offers, glancing over at Patton, Logan, and Virgil for seconds at a time before looking back to his parents.

“That’s still only three people, two until just recently,” Em says, furrowing her eyebrows. “I know things have changed, but I worked as a barista when I was young, and we needed at least four people on shift during rush hours.”

Patton winces and smiles sheepishly.

“He wouldn’t hire anyone for the longest time,” Logan says, sounding irritated, and Patton flinches again. “He was dead set on having utter control, couldn’t trust anyone else-”

Virgil tugs gently on Logan’s arm, and Logan sighs and shoots Patton an apologetic look. Patton tries to smile in response. He’s not sure how successful he is, because Virgil is looking at him with worried eyes. Dang it. Can’t Patton go a single day without making someone worry about him? He  _ always  _ does this, gah-

Virgil reaches across Logan to squeeze Patton’s hand, still looking down at him in concern. The touch is comforting, Patton will admit that at least, and it’s nice to have someone just silently  _ touch.  _ Patton lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment as Virgil rubs his thumb across the back of Patton’s hand, but then his eyes fly open. Semi-grudgingly, he detaches himself from the two QPPs so that he can grab both of Roman’s hands.

Roman looks up at him in surprise, tilting his head slightly in his confusion, and Patton regrets not pulling him into their standing cuddle pile sooner. How could he- But now is not the time for ill thoughts. Patton smiles gently as Roman and tugs him towards the other two, and Roman melts and lets himself be dragged into the circle.

“‘Sokay, Ro,” Virgil mumbles upon seeing Roman’s conflicted expression, and he reaches over and takes one of Roman’s hands from Patton, who is really just happy to see the two connecting. “We’re gonna be okay, I think.”

Patton squeezes his tiny new friend group--a group of people he’s beginning to think of as family-- into a mass hug, and Roman and Virgil lean their foreheads in and close their eyes and Patton only now realizes how exhausted they are. Last night was fine, they all slept well despite some of them being on the floor, but even then…

The threat of Deceit hung over them all night.

A soft, awkward cough breaks the silence, and Patton’s head snaps up. Dr. Picani is nodding his head in the direction of the register. Patton blushes, both at his and Roman’s closeness  _ right in front of his parents oh my god what was Patton thinking  _ and at his negligence. “Ohmygodi’msosorry,” he blurts as he scurries around the counter to serve the tired-looking customer who wandered in god-knows how long ago. “What can I get you?”

“S’no trouble,” the customer says, smiling warmly, and Patton lets himself zone out slightly as he fills the customer’s order. It’s more than one drink, and he feels Logan beside him picking up the other cup, and Patton feels-

He feels--just for a moment!--like it might be okay to give up control, as long as these were the people he gave it to.

His therapist would be proud.

☼☼☼

Speaking of therapy.

It’s Sunday;  Logan doesn’t have any classes, and that’s carefully arranged. Logan handles the shop alone for about an hour in the evening while Patton attends his weekly therapy session, something Logan fought for for a long time.

“Patton,” calls his therapist as he settles awkwardly onto the couch. “How’ve you been doing with your notes?”

“Okay, I think? I’ve been writing them, at least.”

“That’s good! And how  _ are  _ you, Patton?”

“I’m alright!” Patton replies, cheerily enough as he clasps his hands in his lap.

His therapist raises an eyebrow. “That so?” she asks.

“Yes! It is!”

“Okay,” she says, seeming at least partly satisfied. She leans back in her own chair. “What’s got you so happy? It doesn’t seem as… forgive me, but it doesn’t seem as  _forced _ today.”

“‘Cause it’s not,” Patton insists, leaning forward slightly. “At least, not all the way. I think technically I should be sad or scared, and I  _ am, _ but the happy is bigger.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“I- Do you remember Logan?”

“Your platonic crush,” she confirms. “Your… squish?”

“Squish, yeah! You got it first try that time!”

“Thank you, Patton,” she chuckles. “Back to you?”

“Oh, right. Well- Well I’m still very much squishing all over Lo. But I also… I think I’ve got a crush on someone. On- On two someones, maybe.”

Patton’s therapist’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline, but she doesn’t look displeased. “Oh, my! How long have you known these two someones?”

“Well, they’re both customers at the shop. But, uh, I actually just hired one of them, and I’m kind of hoping to hire the other-”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says suddenly, tilting her chair forward and setting her clipboard down on the coffee table. “But did you just say you  _hired _ someone?”

“Um… Yeah. Yeah, I did,” Patton admits, tensing up a little.

“You’re handing over control.”

“Well, I- I’m sharing it, yep.”

“Huh! Well, that’s certainly progress, Patton. I’m very proud of you, and I’d like to talk more about that later. But, before I forget- Are these new crushes the reason you believe you should feel scared?”

“No, actually,” Patton says slowly. He hates that he has to psyche himself up to say his own brother’s name. “Deceit… He came back. He’s back and he wants his part of our parents’ estate.”

“Oh,” she says, raising her eyebrows again.

“Yeah,” he says, and he spends the rest of his forty-five minutes ranting endlessly about his life. His therapist doesn’t get many a word in, but she doesn’t seem to mind. He leaves the room feeling lighter.

For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t consider the time wasted.

☼☼☼

Patton finds that he doesn’t want his new family to leave.

“I, uh, I need to get something from my apartment,” Virgil replies when Patton voices that very thought a minute or so after closing time. “But maybe… Maybe you guys could come over and we could just- stay there for the night? At my apartment, I mean,” he says, looking down with flushed cheeks. It’s barely visible beneath the white foundation, but it’s definitely there. Patton smiles and nods.

Remy and Roman, meanwhile, seem too shocked to agree or decline. “You- You want us to stay at your apartment?” Roman asks with very wide eyes. He’s sitting beside Remy, who is sitting beside Virgil, in a booth, and he has to lean forward to even see Virgil’s face.

“Yeah,” Virgil says, and he looks up at Roman and just  _ looks,  _ and Roman seems to take something out of it because he leans back in his seat, seeming flabbergasted but agreeable.

“Okay, then,” Roman puffs, blinking owlishly.

“You know, if it’s okay with you, Virge,” Remy begins, and she seems to be genuinely asking, “I think I’ll head to mine and Roman’s place. Give you all some privacy.” She smirks.

Virgil nods very, very slowly, seeming to hype himself up. “Yeah. I can do this.”

Remy smiles a little more genuinely and bumps his shoulder with her own, and then she crawls shamelessly over Roman to exit the booth. “In that case, I’m headin’ out, fam. Be safe, hon,” she says, touching Roman’s shoulder and winking, and then she’s gone before Patton can get a single word out of his mouth.

“A ‘sleepover,’ then,” Logan says awkwardly, and Patton grins.

“Sounds great to me!” Patton says, scooting impossibly closer to Logan on their side of the booth, and Virgil lets a tiny smile peek through his otherwise apprehensive expression. Roman has calmed himself, now, and is looking nothing but excited.

“Does Rem still have google maps on her phone?” Virgil asked suddenly, looking up at Roman with a raised eyebrow.

“Let’s hope so,” Roman snorts, and Virgil smiles again.

“Good enough. Then… Let’s go.”

☼☼☼

Patton is the last to go through the door. It looks normal enough, slightly old-looking paint on a typical wooden door. The door knob is dusty as though it hasn’t been used in weeks--months, if Virgil really hasn’t been back since Remy and Roman caught Deceit--and there are several sticky notes taped to the door. They’re all brightly colored, sticking out dramatically against the pale puke-green of the door. Most of them are just odd notes or requests for conversation, but one has a couple of dirty words on it, so Patton frowns and takes it down and crumples it up in his hand.

“Oh, god, I hope none of you are allergic to dust,” Virgil coughs when he stumbles into the living room. It’s an open floor plan for the most part, with the kitchen’s only design distinction from the living room being the abrupt switch from shaggy carpet to terribly patterned tiles. There’s a mess of broken glass on the floor near the counter, and Roman’s eyes glaze over for a moment when they flit to that spot. Virgil, meanwhile, is carefully  _ avoiding  _ looking at that area, and Logan, as per usual, is mechanically scanning the room.

“Patton and I have no such allergy,” Logan supplies, still scanning, “though if it bothers you, we can always go back to the shop and stay there.”

“No, it’s- I mean, it’s probably about time I get my shit together and move back in.”

“‘Getting over it,’ isn’t always the best approach to trauma,” Logan says softly, laying a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “No one will think less of you if you get a new apartment.”

“Or, hell, if you stay with us!” Patton blurts cheerfully, and Logan splutters.

“Well!” Logan shouts, adjusting his glasses.

“He’s staying with me and Rem right now, anyways,” Roman offers, carefully lowering himself onto the stiff couch. He violently hits the cushions a few times, and plumes of dust billow up. Roman coughs. Patton likes the dramatic vibe it gives off.

“And I’ve lived- I’ve been in this place for, like- it’s been years,” Virgil huffs, kicking at the foot of the couch. It dusts up a little and then settles down. “It feels gross to leave just because of… him. Feels  _ unfinished.” _

“I know what you mean,” Patton says sympathetically, leaning on Virgil’s other shoulder. Roman looks up at them from the couch, and Patton is pleasantly surprised when Virgil is the one to smile and gesture for him to join them.

“Hey, so those sticky notes on the door,” Patton starts, snuggling into Virgil’s side. He doesn’t know what subtlety is. “Are they from your landlord, or what?”

Virgil snorts. “What? I was kinda zoned out coming in.”

“I was way out of it,” Roman admits. “Still kind of am.”

“I’ll concede that I was, perhaps, a little preoccupied with examining Virgil’s actual home to worry about his door.”

Patton rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he pulls the crumpled up note out of his pocket. It’s bright pink, and he carefully unfolds it again, laughing a little. “It has the fuck word on it,” he whispers, and Logan lets out a playful gasp.

“Uh, hey, Sher- Sherlock?” Virgil asks quietly in the same whispering tone, and Patton tilts his head a little while Logan nods attentively.

“Hmm?”

“You- You guys knew Deceit, right?”

“Very well,” Logan replies, scrunching up his nose.

“Please look at this,” Virgil squeaks, and Logan suddenly looks much less playful as he leans in to look at the note more closely.

_ Fuck you, too,  _ it reads. But, as Patton looks closer as well, he realizes exactly what it is Virgil is actually concerned about.

“That’s Deceit’s handwriting,” Roman breathes.

“One of his handwritings, anyways,” Virgil confirms, still quiet, and his face is even paler than it usually is.

“These were all over the door?” Logan asks seriously, leaving the group to examine said door.  _ “ Jesus. _ There are at  _ least  _ twenty notes here--all in different handwriting. All in  _ Deceit’s  _ handwriting.”

“Um,” says Virgil, and Roman wraps his arms around him. Virgil doesn’t shrink away like he usually does. Patton is too worried to coo over how cute it is.

“He’s been visiting your old apartment to leave these--it’s his only way to contact you.” Logan runs his finger down some of the sticky notes. “Dust tends to settle most heavily within the first five to seven days of an object being cleaned or placed. These are not dusty.”

“He’s still trying,” Patton says, and Logan looks up at him with fury in his eyes. Patton would be scared if he didn’t know it wasn’t for him.

Roman is pulling Virgil over to the couch, the both of them falling lightly onto it as Roman tries to take Virgil’s mind off the notes. Logan is tearing every single note rather violently off the door, not even stopping to read them before he crumples them and tears them over the trash bin, and Patton is staring absent-mindedly at the bin Logan has moved to keep the door open.

And then he hears it.

Footsteps. Coming up the stairs.

Nothing too unusual for an apartment building, but everyone is on edge and Patton knows it. “Any floor neighbors?” Patton asks as calmly as he can manage.

“Highest- Top floor,” Virgil chokes. Roman runs his hands through Virgil’s hair. “Only room on this floor. Used to be the building owner’s.”

The tip of a tacky fedora begins to come into view, and Patton feels something hot and uncomfortable flare inside his chest. God knows he’s had trouble feeling anything but extremes since his parents’ death, but this is something screeching and scared, angry and loud, intangible but only barely.

Patton looks over at Logan, frozen and seething with anger in the doorway; Virgil, pale and shaking in Roman’s arms; Roman, detached and determined with one hand in Virgil’s hair and the other resting comfortingly on his back.

Patton takes a deep breath, straightens his cardigan cape, and stands to attention.

He’s got this under control.


	5. Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: dissociative episode and many an anxiety attack.

Deceit walks up the stairs, and Logan closes the door in his face.

“I panicked,” Logan says, looking back at the other three. “He absolutely saw us. What do I-?”

“Sit down, dear,” Patton says lovingly, patting his arm and pushing him aside. Patton schools his face into something plain and emotionless, which is  _ far  _ easier than the happy he got so used to faking, and opens the door. Calmly, he reaches down and pulls the trash bin back into the room. Then he extends his arm, snatches the sticky note pad right out of a shocked Deceit’s hand, and plops it into the aforementioned bin.

“Declyn,” he says.

“Patton,” Deceit says, clearly surprised, and Roman can’t help but stand up. Logan is quick to replace his spot beside Virgil, anyways, and maybe this way Roman can get in a well-deserved punch. “I didn’t expect to be seeing  _ you  _ here.”

“And who did you expect to see?”

“My dearest Virgil, of course,” Deceit replies, craning his neck in an attempt to see past Patton. Patton steps forward to fill out even more of the doorway.

“Virgil isn’t yours,” Patton says firmly, crossing his arms.

“Nor is he keen on talking to  _ you,  _ of all people,” Logan calls from the couch, and Virgil nods silently and latches his arms around Logan’s neck. Roman sees it all and feels his heart fume. Deceit has had it coming.

“Logan?” Deceit asks, his eyebrows going up in even more surprise. He tilts his head to the side again, but Patton won’t let him see a thing. “Is Logan here, too? Who else is partying in my apartment?”

“Well, for one, it isn’t your apartment,” Patton says sweetly, pushing Deceit lightly back a few steps. Deceit’s eyes are wide. “But, yes. Logan is here.”

“Two’s company,” Deceit says, a jovial lilt in his voice as he smiles charmingly at his brother. He wrinkles his nose as though he’s just tasted something sour. “But three’s a crowd.”

“Four’s a fiesta,” Roman says, pushing Patton aside to share the doorway. “What’s up, snake face?”

Deceit huffs, looking incredibly put out as his eyes roll to the top of his head and back. He straightens his cloak. “Just speaking to my brother, tranny,” he quips back, only it isn’t a quip, it’s a goddamn slur, and it makes Patton’s blood boil.

It makes Virgil’s blood boil, too.

“You- You can fuck  _ right _ off, asshat,” Virgil hisses, and Logan hardly even has time to react before Virge is at the door, pushing both Patton  _ and  _ Roman aside to see his ex. “This- Right here is- It’s  _ my  _ place, and- you don’t- you can’t just fucking- can’t- You-” Virgil growls, clenching his hands into fists. “You. Gone. Now.”

“Uh, um, I, uh, no,” Deceit says pleasantly, tilting his head and smiling again. “And, Virgil, my dear- Five’s a mistake.”

“Actually, the idiom ends with three,” Logan cuts in, shouldering his way up. God, the doorway is too small for this. This was a terrible idea. At least Deceit won’t be getting through anytime soon. “Anything past that is pure nonsense.” Roman frowns, but Logan doesn’t seem to notice.

Deceit simply rolls his eyes again. “Regardless. Virgil, I’ve been meaning to speak to you for the  _longest _ time.”

“Do you- Do- Remember how I told you to, to fuck right off?”

“Say it without that retarded stutter, and I’ll go.”

“Wow, that’s funny, it’s almost like you think he has to listen to you!” Roman steams, throwing his hands up.

“He always has before,” the snake says smoothly, and Roman punches him.

Or, at least, he tries. He’s got the aim and he’s got the anger, but then Patton pops up in front of Deceit, effectively shielding the fucker, and he takes Roman’s punch right to his jaw.

“Shit, Pat, what the hell!?” Roman yells, dropping his hands to Patton’s shoulders. Virgil whimpers, and Logan shouts out something that Roman can’t register.

“We will not use violence to solve this,” Patton says in a frighteningly low tone, and he eyes Virgil and that’s what does Roman in.

“Damn it, Pat- Okay, okay, fine, shit, okay, sit down, does it hurt?”

“You punched the poor man, of course it hurts,” Deceit says, and he sounds infuriatingly  _ amused. _

“Roman, fetch Virgil’s first aid supplies, if he has them,” Logan commands, lowering to the floor in front of Patton, and Roman nods frantically and disappears into a separate room off the open living area. “Patton, he hit your jaw, correct? Can you please move your mouth as I am doing?”

“I’m fine,” Patton says, sounding considerably fed up.

“That sounds significantly unfine,” Logan replies shortly. Roman hasn’t returned.

Virgil makes a sound somewhere between a whimper and a hiss, but none of the  _ good  _ people nearby seem to hear. Deceit is the first to react, the first to even notice, leaning forward and putting one foot in the doorway before Virgil can stop him. Then his hands are on Virgil’s shoulders, and he’s smiling warmly and tilting his head and saying, “Oh, Virge, you’ve gotten yourself in with such a bad crowd. I did warn you about Roman, you know.”

Virgil screams and slams the door shut on instinct, and he can hear Deceit cursing repeatedly in the hallway. His foot was shoved out of the way. His fingers may have still been on the doorframe. Virgil finds he does not care.

“Shit, Virge!” Roman yells, skidding out the sharp ninety degree angle from the bathroom door straight to Virgil. “Damn it, I’m so sorry, I got distracted with Pat and I- Goddamnit, I’m so sorry, I said I’d protect you.” Roman tosses the first aid kit at Logan, who barely catches it and has to seriously readjust his glasses afterward, and Patton tries to actually fight Logan to get to Virgil. Not much comes of it. “Are you okay? Did he touch you?”

Virgil hums desperately, shaking his head frantically and grasping at his throat.

“No, he didn’t touch you?” Roman asks. Virgil shakes his head again. “He did. You can’t talk?” Virgil swallows and does some head motion that is somewhere between a shake and a nod. That’s okay, Roman’s question was confusing. Regardless, Roman gently, slowly takes Virgil’s hands and drags him to the couch, setting him down beside Patton.

“He’s gone nonverbal,” Logan explains, pressing lightly around the red spot along Patton’s jawline. “This can happen when certain people are put under large amounts of stress, it’s a bit of a coping mechanism- Some find themselves physically unable to speak, whereas others simply don’t see the point. Virgil, which one do you most closely feel?”

Virgil just shakes his head, tearing up as he shoves his face into Roman’s shirt, and Roman squeezes his eyes shut and holds him tight.

“That didn’t go how I wanted it to go,” Patton says, breathing too heavily.

“I know,” Logan says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for punching you, Patton,” Roman breathes, his eyes still closed.

“Damn right you are,” says Logan.

“Logan,” Patton butts in, a warning in his voice.

“Not good,” Virgil gasps finally, peeking away from Roman. He catches Patton and Logan’s eyes, and they both smile at him sadly. There’s a sharp pounding on the door. They all ignore it.

“Slimy bitch,” Roman mutters without opening his eyes, and, for whatever reason, Virgil bursts into choked, raspy laughter. Logan, admitting the mild humor of the situation, allows himself a few short chuckles, and Patton is quick to join in, giggling and leaning over himself.

Eventually, Deceit leaves.

☼☼☼

They are on Virgil’s bed. It is stripped of its sheets, because Virgil said it still smelled just a little too much like  _ him ,  _ and the bare pillows are scattered around the four in a circle. They’re all sitting with some variant of crossed legs, most of them laying at least slightly on another, and there is an open text book, a spiral college-ruled notebook, and a couple of untorn sticky notes in the middle of their group.

“Now, I honestly don’t believe taking this to court is our one and only option,” Logan says, looking at them all with earnest eyes. He’s hunched over the textbook,  the only one of them not slumped almost entirely across another human, and his eyes are sharp. He’s taken his glasses off in favor of simply keeping his eyes less than a foot away from the text. “Though it certainly is  _ one  _ of our options, especially if Virgil chooses to press charges. Which, with the right help, you can certainly do. However, if you prefer to keep this quiet and low, we can very well simply blackmail Deceit--in, of course, more legal terms. If we  _ threaten  _ to have Virgil testify against him, he may very well choose to drop the claim to ‘his’ portion of our inheritance.”

“He won’t believe that,” Virgil says quietly, shaking his head. His undereyeshadow is smeared with tears, but his eyes are certain. “I want him gone, and I- I’ll- Look, I’ll get up there on the stand if you really need me to, but he’s not gonna believe I have that kind of courage.”

“He doesn’t know you as well as he thinks he does,” Roman says, almost proudly, and Virgil smiles up at him.

“Well, the other option is that we go through with it. We can contest his claim by attempting to prove that he has committed criminal acts. According to our state laws, if he’s in prison, he can’t collect. His share goes to his next-of-kin.”

“Me!” Patton says, grinning wildly, and Logan squeezes his hand.

“So let’s-” Virgil takes a deep breath. “Let’s do that.”

Logan nods, but he looks reluctant.

“There’s a catch?” Virgil guesses, wincing slightly.

“There nearly always is,” Logan sighs. “And in this case, it’s our- well, as you might say, our ‘shitty legal system.’ America isn’t as fair as it likes to boast it is. Domestic abuse requires  _ far  _ more ‘proof’ than it should to actually be prosecuted. Often, domestic abuse isn’t even  _considered _ unless the abuser physically harmed the victim with what could be considered a deadly weapon.” Virgil pales, and Logan hurries on. “Which is not to say it won’t work! We just… need a lot of proof and a lot of determination.”

“No, it’s not- I’m not worried about that,” Virgil whispers, and Roman begins to run his hand through the emo’s hair again. “Lo, you- You said ‘deadly weapon.’ What does that mean?”

“Well, technically, it’s anything that can kill someone, so the answer to that question is fairly broad. Some are more obvious and easier to prove than others, but-”

“List some off f-for me, Lo.”

“For one,” Logan begins, “any blunt object, really.”

“Check,” Virgil says, looking Logan dead in the eye, and it takes a few moments for the word to register.

“Oh no,” Patton cries, his hand flying to his mouth. Logan’s own mouth feels dry.

“You-” Logan begins.

“Keep going,” Virgil urges, his voice shaking, and Roman’s hand trembles to a halt.

“A sharp object,” Logan says, swallowing hard, “like a broken bottle-”

“Check.”

“-Or a knife.”

“Ch- Check.”

Patton is whimpering beneath his hands, both now clasped firmly over his mouth, and Roman’s hand is squeezing more and more tightly around Virgil’s.

“I don’t want to list the others,” Logan whispers, feeling haunted, and Virgil nods slowly, his eyes brimming with tears.

“That’s fair,” he chokes out, and Roman hums desperately and wraps Virgil up in his arms. Patton is quick to follow, hugging onto Virgil’s open side, and, before he can stop himself, Logan is joining in, spreading his arms out around them all, pulling them in and trying to keep his eyes dry. Logan is glad he took his glasses off. Patton regrets not doing the same. His are smudged with tears.

“How-” Logan clears his throat, forcing himself to sit up straight again. “How long ago?”

“Most recent was- It was- I guess somewhere around two months ago,” Virgil says, shrugging his shoulders. No one is fooled. The tears in his eyes are slowly spilling out. “But I-” Virgil sniffs and wipes his eyes with his sleeve, praying to god they won’t think less of him. He looks up at Logan. “I took pictures of- of what he used, and the… damage it left,” he says quietly. “They’re still on my phone, I- Remy always warned me, and I thought, just in case, but I never-”

“Oh, Virgil,” Logan says quietly, rubbing his eyes. Damn it. He’s not supposed to cry.

“Shh, honey,” Patton mumbles tearfully, still sprawled across Virgil. “Virgil, honey, it’s okay. You’re safe now, and I’m so, so proud of you for making it through that.”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil says, and, finally, the tears are really starting to flow. His voice wavers in pain. “I’m sorry, Pat, I know he’s your brother and-”

Patton hums tearfully in disagreement, shaking his head. “He’s not my brother anymore, Virge. Family or not, you are already more important to me than he will  _ ever  _ be.”

Roman feels  _himself _ tearing up at that, feeling that same overflowing of love, and then-

And then Virgil grabs the sleeves of the cardigan around Patton’s neck, and he pulls the older man in and  _ kisses  _ him, right on the lips.

Logan tumbles off the bed. Roman freezes where he is. Virgil pulls back slowly, drags his eyes up to Patton, and whispers, fearfully:

_ “Oh shit.” _

Patton doesn’t respond, either verbally  _ or  _ nonverbally, and Virgil’s panic visibly grows. The emo drops the cardigan sleeves and backs up on the bed, crawling away from Patton and Roman both. “Oh, god, fuck, Pat- Pat, I’m- I don’t- I’m- I am so sorry, I- God, I- Shit, shit, shit,” he rambles, pulling his knees up to his chest and beginning to rock back and forth at the head of the bed. This was a bad idea.  _ Fuck,  _ this was such a bad idea. Why did he  _ do  _ that!?

Oh god. Oh, god, and  _ Roman,  _ now Roman’s going to think- Virgil’s thoughts are squeaky and loud. He can’t breathe. He can’t remember how to breathe. Fuck, Roman’s gonna hate him, shit, he’s never appreciated Roman enough, he’s never  _ spoken  _ about what he felt instead of just brushing off and vagueing and being a little shit and-

He should’ve talked this over with Logan. Holy crap, he never even talked this over with Logan! And Logan’s been squishing over this guy from day one, and Virgil didn’t even  _ ask \-  _ holy shit he’s going to die. Either he’s going to die, just from being himself, or someone is going to kill him. It’s going to happen.

“Virgil, I need you to breathe,” says a low voice, and Virgil has that split second heart attack that comes with thinking he hears Declyn. But it’s not Declyn, not Deceit- It’s Logan. Logan, who still hasn’t retrieved his glasses, who is kneeling in front of Virgil on the bed, who is hovering his hands above Virgil’s knees. “Can I touch you, Virgil?”

Virgil whimpers and shakes his head.

“All right, that’s fine. Can you breathe with me? I’m going to count to seven, then four, then eight, and I want you to inhale, hold, and exhale, respectively. Do you think you can do that, Virge?”

“Mhmm,” Virgil whines, rocking more violently. He can do this. Probably. Oh, god. Probably not.

“Shh, shh shh,” another voice coos, and Virgil’s eyes flick around wildly until they land on Patton. Patton’s cheeks are flushed a vibrant pink that clashes terribly with his hair, his freckles standing out tremendously against the differently colored skin. His eyes are soft, welcoming, and his eyebrows are not as angrily furrowed as Virgil expected. Oh. Logan doesn’t look all that angry either. Virgil tries to breathe with Logan’s rhythm.

Then he catches Roman’s eyes. The theatrical man looks hurt, more than anything, his eyes burning into Virgil’s with the same ferocity he puts into all of his acting. But this time Virgil knows it isn’t fake, and that  _sucks. _ Roman doesn’t look away, doesn’t avert his gaze even when Virgil’s eyes scan over his heartbroken expression, the betrayed glint in his eyes- For a moment, Virgil wonders if he’s imagining it all, if he’s- if he’s suffering from cognitive distortions, jumping to conclusions. He feels his breath start to even out, if only slightly, and then Roman claps his hand over his mouth and sobs wetly and Virgil loses it all over again.

“Virge,” Patton tries again, soft but still urging him to follow along. “Virge, sweetheart, it’s okay. We can sort all of this out, you just have to breathe, honeybun.”

Logan reaches back and rests a hand on Roman’s, there but not pressing, just- just there if Roman needs in. And, to Logan’s relief, Roman apparently does; he grasps Logan’s hand like a lifeline, squeezing it relentlessly as he tries to cover his sobs with his other hand.

Logan keeps counting.

It takes a fair while, but, eventually, Virgil is able to breathe properly again. By that time, Roman has gotten ahold of himself, and Patton’s blush is far tamer.

“I just… need a moment,” Roman whispers to Logan, and, when Logan frowns, he continues. “Stay with him. I… I just need a second.” And then Roman goes, and Logan lets him, and Roman sinks to the floor in the bathroom and cries.

“There’s my kiddo,” Patton says jokingly, and Virgil lets out a watery laugh.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, his voice tired and hoarse.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Patton says quietly, the grin on his face unable to be hidden. “It was a bit of a surprise, sure, but there’s nothing wrong with a surprise every once in a while.”

“So… you’re not… mad?”

“Of course not,” Patton says, positively beaming with happiness. “Virgil, I- I feel a lot of things about you. All of them good.”

Virgil feels like he’s walking on clouds.

Roman, too, feels like he’s walking on clouds, though perhaps it is in a different sense. He can barely feel the cold tile beneath him, and he scratches his palms against it in an attempt to feel it more. It’s hard to breathe, but he won’t take off his binder, not now. He can’t stop thinking, but he can’t stop  _ not  _ thinking, and he feels like the world is blurred even though he can see it all perfectly fine. He feels like he’s floating--like the floor got up and left him, all alone, and he doesn’t know which direction to wander in to get home. He blinks and then forgets it, as though a blink is even something one worries about forgetting, and he feels a tingling, detached sort of numbness on his fingers. He can’t remember why he’s here.

He keeps crying.

Meanwhile, Virgil has  _stopped _ crying. He’s holding Patton’s hand, and Logan’s hand, too, and he’s  _smiling. _ “I think I wanna date you,” Virgil blurts.

“That sounds good!” Patton replies, and Virgil laughs again. It’s that simple! But Patton’s smile dims a bit. “Logan, you're…?”

“I am polyamorous,” Logan confirms, but then bites his lip. “Polyplatonic. I’m aromantic and asexual, Patton.”

“Polyplatypus,” Patton giggles at the information he mostly already knew, making what can only be described as a “three” face, but then he shrugs slightly and smiles. “I figured,” he admits.

Logan graciously ignores the platypus joke. “I do, however, enjoy queerplatonic relationships, as Virgil has demonstrated to me.”

“Figured that, too,” Patton laughs.

“Although I have compiled  _ many  _ a pros and cons list, and none have come up with a definitive answer due to my own admitted cognitive distortions, I- Something about the situation makes me feel that I should tell you that-” Logan takes a deep, gasping breath, and he spits his next sentence as though it were one word. “I want to date you also!”

“Double boyf,” Patton squeaks, clearly in a state of shock. Logan has regrets.

“I apologize, this is awkward, I should’ve have thought this through-”

“He’s thought this through  _ plenty,”  _ Virgil says teasingly, surprisingly playful as he nudges both the boys beside him. Wait. Both.

“We- I definitely think we should talk about this,” Virgil says firmly, trying to psyche himself up, “but where the  _hell _ did Roman go?”

Logan frowns. “He said he ‘needed a moment.’” He tilts his head. “I haven’t known Roman very long. Is this cause for concern?”

“Um, maybe,” Virgil says, wincing slightly and trying very hard to make sure he doesn’t accidentally make Logan feel guilty. “Roman- Shit, I don’t know if- Well.” Virgil takes a deep breath. “First. I need- I need to tell you something. I should’ve told Logan another something before I kissed you-” Virgil blushes, suddenly unable to continue.

“But there’s another something?” Patton asks softly, looking up with hopeful eyes.

“I also kind of have the hots for Ro,” Virgil breathes, immediately relaxing. There. Band-aid. At least the immediate panic is over with. Now it’s just time to deal with the consequences. … Damn.

“Thank goodness,” Patton says, biting his lip as he smiles. “He’s so gone on you, kiddo, you have no idea.”

“I think I do, actually,” Virgil laughs, relaxing completely. “I haven’t… haven’t been as good to him as I should have, I think.”

“You were going through a lot,” Logan points out, placing a calming hand on Virgil’s arms. It warms him all the way through his jacket. “You still are. I’m… proud of you, Virgil. For telling us.”

“Now you just have to tell  _ him,”  _ Patton presses, leaning in a bit.

Virgil nods, trying to keep his breathing steady. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. And you guys- You’re both okay with me..?”

“Well.” Logan coughs, picking up his glasses off the bedside table and setting them cooly on his face. “If you don’t mind sharing, and if Roman feels so inclined, I…” He blushes. Logan  _ blushes.  _ Patton is internally squealing. “I also feel…  _ things  _ for Roman.”

“High five to join the hots-for-Roman club?” Patton asks, raising his hand into the air and giggling near hysterically. This is too much. Tonight is too much. … Or maybe not enough. Regardless, Patton audibly squeals when Logan and Virgil both high five him.

“Roman,” Logan says in reminder, and Virgil vaults off of the bed.

“Ro,” Virgil calls, knocking on the bathroom door without even having to look around the rest of the apartment. “Ro, can we come in? Please?” There’s a low humming from the bathroom, and Virgil winces. “Ro, I- I’m going to tell them. Okay?” Roman doesn’t answer, and Virgil spins to face Logan. “Roman dissociates a lot. I know you’re not a psych major, but do you-”

“I know what dissociation is, and I also know some possible ways to help someone suffering from it,” Logan answer seriously, already reaching for the door knob. Thankfully, it isn’t locked, and they all breathe a sigh of relief. “Virgil, does your fridge make ice, or do you have ice stored?”

“Yeah, on the left,” Virgil answers, and Logan nods.

“Patton, please bring us a few ice cubes. Virgil, if you could stay with me, that would be ideal.” He sits down slowly beside Roman, who is simply staring into space. “Roman? Can you hear me?”

Roman hums again, his fingers twitching against the tile. “What’s up, Logan?”

“He scares me when he’s like this,” Virgil mumbles, and Logan sighs.

“Roman, can you do me a favor?” he asks. Roman cocks his head a little. “Can you tell me five things you can see?”

Roman’s eyes, unfocused as they are, dart slowly around the room. “Virge,” Roman says slowly. “You. Sink. My hands. Uhhh-” Patton slides into the room handing three ice cubes to Logan. “And Pat. Is that five? Yeah.”

“Good job, Roman,” Logan says genuinely, taking the ice. “Can you open your hand for me, please?” Roman, however slowly, removes his hand from the tile and offers it to Logan, palm up. “Thank you. This will be cold.” And Logan sets one of the ice cubes in Roman’s hand and curls his fingers around it, into a fist.

Roman’s eyes jitter a bit, and they focus in on Logan. Virgil lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. God, dissociation sucks. “Woah,” Roman breathes.

“Indeed,” Logan says, smiling softly. “Now I need you to tell me four things you can feel, Roman. Okay?”

“Cold,” Roman mutters. “The ice, I mean.” He blinks a few times, pushing himself up to sit a little straighter against the wall. “The tile. The wall.” Patton reaches forward, wrapping his hands around Roman’s free one, and Roman smiles a little. “Pat, again.”

“Good. Do we need to continue?”

Roman closes his eyes and squeezes his hand around the ice. “No, I- Thanks, Logan. I guess I- I zoned out. Sorry.”

“I told them while you were out of it,” Virgil says guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact.

“Oh.” Roman pauses, and then shrugs, mostly just feeling tired. “That’s fine. Thanks for helping me, guys.” He squeezes the ice again.

“Do you remember what triggered your dissociative episode?” Logan asks, ever the professional, and Roman stiffens.

“It’s, uh- It wasn’t anything important, Lo.”

“I’m in love with you I think,” Virgil practically yells, and then his eyes go wide and he shrinks back, having somehow scared himself. “Sorry. Um- I’m sorry.”

“Pardon?” Roman shrieks, leaning precariously forward. He’s going to fall on his face. 

“I- I really like you, Roman,” Virgil says more quietly, looking at Roman apologetically.

“Ha,” Roman says, verging on hysterics. “Haha-holy  _ crap,  _ Virge- You’re-” His expressions sobers dramatically, and he leans back again. “You’re not pulling my leg, or anything?”

Virgil shakes his head, beginning to smile.

And Roman surges forward, sliding on his knees toward Virgil, kissing him fiercely beneath the floating sink in Virgil’s shitty apartment bathroom, and Roman swears to god it’s everything he’d ever dreamed it’d be and  _ more. _

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Roman breathes when he finally pulls back.

“I do, actually,” Virgil smirks, his expression slowly shifting from shell-shocked to mischievous. “You told me. All the time.”

Roman splutters. “Did not!”

“Did too,” Patton confirms with a laugh, and Logan smiles fondly as he reaches up to put the remaining ice cubes in the sink. Roman gives his own ice one last squeeze before dropping it off as well. “Roman, I know we just met and this is awkward and I’m your boss, and I’m not really sure how that works but I’m sure Logan can sort it out and stuff and what I’m trying to say it- I like you a lot, too!”

“Oh my god I’m going to faint,” Roman says, laying his hand across his forehead dramatically. He leans theatrically across Virgil’s lap, and Patton laughs.

“I don’t mean to alarm you too much,” Logan says, smirking alongside Virgil, “but I am also harboring some rather queer feelings for you.”

“Pun?” Patton asks, his head popping up with wide eyes.

“Absolutely not!” Logan says, frantically shaking his head.

“Did I just score  _three boyfriends?” _ Roman asks dreamily, still sprawled across Virgil.

“Yeah. Highscore,” Virgil comments drily.

For a good moment, all is quiet. No one speaks, simply basking in their newfound companionship. And then Logan speaks up.

“Thank  _ god  _ Remy didn’t come.”

☼☼☼

It goes too fast.

“We are not afraid to take you to court for domestic abuse,” Logan says, matter of fact. And Deceit  _ laughs. _

“Where’s your evidence?” he laughs warmly, smiling at them all. “Where’s your  _victim? _ We all know Virgil would never put himself into the spotlight like that.”

“Evidence,” Logan says calmly, pulling out the printed photographs, “and witness.”

Virgil raises a hand, looking Declyn  _ dead in the eye  _ and  _ daring  _ him to say otherwise.

“You won’t,” Deceit laughs again, and Patton asks him to leave their shop.

☼☼☼

It goes  _ too fast.  _

But Logan, at the very least, is ready. Technically, since Virgil is the one pressing charges, Virgil needs either himself or a licensed attorney with him. But a McKenzie Friend, as Logan explains, is the perfect way around that.

“A McKenzie Friend is just a person who isn’t licensed who you give permission to speak to the audience, or the judge and possibly jury. I’ll be your McKenzie Friend, Virgil.”

(“And I’ll be your McEnvy friend, since no one ever lets me in on the action,” Roman whines. He gets kissed several times. He shuts his mouth.)

“We’re going to be just fine,” Logan assures them all. “We’ve got solid evidence. I’ve run it by every part of the court, and they’ve agreed that it’s both relevant and credible, thanks to Virgil’s confirmation. All we have to do is show and tell.

“Literally.”

It’s silent for a moment while Logan scribbles on his notepad, shuffles his photos around. He asks, suddenly, “Virgil, what’s your last name again?”

“Maro.”

Logan smiles. “Like the poet.”

☼☼☼

_ It goes so fast. _

“The prosecution calls Virgil Maro to the stand,” Logan calls, and maybe he’s playing pretend a little bit, but at the same time, he’s very much not, this is very much serious and Logan  _will _ not fail. Virgil walks up to the podium.

“Mr. Maro, could you recount to us the timeline and depth of Mr. Sanders’ abuse?” Using Patton’s last name makes Logan’s skin crawl. He does it anyway.

Virgil doesn’t leave out a single detail. He throws up photo upon photo, listing dates and injuries and showing medical receipts for the few times he was brave and desperate enough to go to a hospital. It’s not looking good for Deceit, and Deceit knows it. Virgil keeps his head held high.

Remy and the rest of Virgil’s little team is there, mostly for support. Remy smiles supportively up at his brother, his hair carefully braided in the most court-worthy fashion he could manage, and he is an endlessly steady constant when Virgil needs it. As well as,  _ apparently,  _ a witness.

“Remington Maro,” Logan says, smiling cooly while Roman snorts in laughter behind the benches. The sound helps Remy to calm down a bit. “The petitioner’s brother. Mr. Maro, were you aware of this abuse?”

“I had my suspicions for months,” Remy says, sitting up straighter than Roman has ever seen him. The judge wouldn’t allow him to wear his sunglasses in court. It makes his face look funny. Patton laughs at that observation, and Logan gives them The Look that means they should shut up. He’s probably right, so they do. This is important, after all. The cheering up will happen later. “Virgil always shut me out, told me he wasn’t supposed to talk to me. But the first time I actually saw the physical abuse take place was when my friend Roman and I barged into his apartment. Declyn was there, towering over my brother and holding a broken glass bottle. We confronted him. When I told him he had to go, he asked Virgil. He started to reach toward my brother, and I stood in front of him. Declyn hit my arm with the bottle, and Virgil told him to get out.”

“And after that?” Logan gently prods when Remy begins taking slow, deep breaths.

“He pretended to go but then he whirled around to hit Virgil. Virgil tackled him and took the bottle, and Decei-  _ Declyn  _ left. Roman drove me and Virgil to the hospital. I took pictures of what he did to us.” Remy picks up the photos Logan printed out for him and shows them, one by one, to the judge. “That was the last I saw of Declyn, until he walked into the coffee shop.”

Virgil is glad this is a closed hearing because, as sure as he is that this needed to be done, his anxiety is still running rampant. A watching, staring crowd may have been the weight to send him overboard. But Patton is leaning over the bench, inconspicuously holding Virgil’s hands and rubbing absent patterns across them, and Virgil can breathe.

It feels like a lifetime before Logan stops assaulting the room with his mass amount of evidence. He doesn’t even bother to ask Deceit any questions. Not yet.

“The defense calls Declyn Sanders to the stand,” says Deceit’s attorney.

Declyn saunters up like he owns the place, and Roman hates him even more. Roman can feel every breath he lets out, but he feels the seat he’s sitting on less and less, hears the clamor of Logan’s shoes against the courtroom floor  _ less and less - _ but then Remy is back in the pew benche, a comforting weight against Roman’s side, and Roman can breathe.

“Mr. Sanders, tell me,” the attorney says, and he’s stalling. He knows he hasn’t got enough to carry this case through successfully, Logan can tell by the little cough he lets out before each sentence. “You lived with Mr. Maro for eleven months, yes?”

“That is correct,” Declyn says, proudly.

“And you paid rent?”

“That is correct. I paid  _all _ of our rent.”

“And yet Mr. Maro expelled you from his apartment without any regard-”

“Objection! Misleading information!” Logan practically shouts, leaping out of his chair, and the judge nods.

“Sustained,” she says, and Logan nods and rushes on.

“Mr. Sanders, you say you paid the rent in full. Could you please enlighten the court as to where you got this money?”

Deceit mumbles.

“What was that, Mr. Sanders?”

“It was money from my own checking account,  _thanks,” _ Declyn snarls, and his attorney shoots him a warning glance.

“And where did you acquire this money?”

“Objection, that’s irrelevant-”

“Overruled,” the judge says slowly. “Mr. Capita, continue.”

_ “Where  _ did you acquire this money, Mr. Sanders?” Logan asks again, without skipping a beat.

Declyn is quiet for a long, long time, but when Logan raises one questioning eyebrow, he speaks. “I transferred the money from Virgil’s savings account. He signed off on everything, it was his choice!”

“The person you are charged with abusing signed off on your transferring his funds to an account of your own,” Logan says, seeming  _ almost  _ amused. He shakes his head, returning to his seat. “No further questions, your honor.”

The judge leans back in her chair. Declyn’s attorney walks back to face him. “Mr. Sanders,” he begins again, more slowly, and still with the same precursory cough, and then he stops. He coughs again. “No further questions. The defense would like to call Virgil Maro to the stand.”

Virgil tenses, and his legs are stiff, and he’s clearly on the throes of a panic attack. But he takes a deep breath, squeezes Patton’s hand one last time, and walks back to the podium anyways. He can do this, and he  _ knows  _ it.

“Mr. Maro,” asks the attorney, “you claim that you were abused on multiple occasions by Declyn Sanders.”

“Yes,” Virgil says slowly, unsure.

“And yet you reportedly trusted him enough to allow him access to your bank accounts.”

“Well-”

“Mr. Maro, that doesn’t sound to me like a man who is scared for his life and wellbeing.”

Logan furrows his eyebrows, mumbling. “Wha-?”

“I- Well, it was less trust and more- it was more-”

“More what, Mr. Maro? Can you speak?”

“More  _ fear,  _ I-”

“Mr. Maro, that is simply not how an abused man  _ behaves-” _

“Wha-  _ Falsehood!”  _ Logan shrieks, jumping to his feet again. “Objection, that’s argumentative! He’s badgering the witness!”

“Sustained,” the judge says lowly, “but you must know, Mr. Capita, that I will not tolerate such a lack of professionalism in my courtroom.

Logan’s heart races. Blood rushes through his ears, and he’s  _ furious,  _ furious for Virgil for having to go through so much only to be incompetently badgered in court for being  _ abused \-  _ But he catches Virgil’s eye. He’s taking deep breaths, 4-7-8, just like Roman taught him. Logan glances back, sees Remy, sees Roman’s eyes completely focused on him, sees Patton smiling encouragingly-

And Logan can breathe.

“Yes, of course. My apologies, your honor.” Logan sits.

The hearing proceeds, though not for very long. The defense simply doesn’t have anything to go off of aside from flimsy falsehoods, and they know it. It’s so cut and dry that in the first hearing, without any breaks or anything, the judge is able to look out over the two sides and proclaim Declyn  _guilty _ after only the briefest of recesses for her to look over the evidence _. _

But for that split second- for that little tiny moment right before she speaks… Patton’s not sure. And it’s silly, he knows, because Virgil’s case is airtight, Declyn hardly even  _had _ a defense. But Patton is reminded of Declyn getting away with so much as a child, of lying his way out of even the most clear cut situations, and he’s scared. Patton nearly stands, nearly raises his hand like a child, nearly sprints up to the podium, because he wants  _ control.  _ He wants to tell the judge why she’s wrong, why Virgil is innocent, why everything should be okay, he wants to be in  _ control- _

But Logan glances at him out of the corner of his eye, and there’s a sparkle within it, a promise. A question:  _ Can you trust me? _

Virgil is wedged between Remy and Roman now, and he and Roman both are glancing over at Patton and Logan, sending them their worry and their love and their support and their fear, and Logan is there beside him, standing tall and confident, and Patton-

Patton can breathe.


	6. Epilogue

Deceit walked away from that courtroom down several thousand dollars in restitution, up four years in required jail time, and with a restraining order against him from one Virgil Maro.

Virgil’s fucking psyched.

He knows he’s not the poster boy for mental health right now (nor has he  _ever _ been, actually, so whatever), but he’s making some pretty solid progress, if you ask him. He’s keeping up with that therapy he started just before meeting Logan, and he’s having actual, good conversations again. His stuttering, while permanently prominent as he knew it would be, is manageable around those he’s close to; and that circle of people grows a little bit every day.

He walks into Deja Brew as confidently as he ever has, his hair freshly dyed a stellar shade of purple, and he beelines for the booth in the corner by the counter. Most of the regular customers understand by now that that seat is permanently reserved for Patton and his family.

Logan strolls in not far behind, his textbooks clutched tightly in his arms, and he spills the whole bundle of books on the table before Virgil can stop him.

“The Ethics exam is tomorrow,” Logan announces loudly, and many excited sounds emerge from the employee-only room.

“My boys!” Roman shouts, twirling through the door. There’s flour in his hair, which Virgil thinks is probably completely unnecessary, and there’s chocolate sauce all over his bright red “kiss the cook” apron. Logan has reminded him several times that none of them actually cook anything. The shop runs off beverages and  _ baked  _ goods, and- But Roman never lets him get that far before he wraps him up in a shut-your-mouth hug. “It’s been so  _ long!” _

“It’s been, like, a couple of hours,” Virgil snorts, leaning back in the booth. Roman sinks into it beside him, and Virgil makes a face and brushes some of the flour out of his hair.

“That’s a long time! Do you know how much can happen in a couple of hours? A whole Shakespearean play, Virgil!  _Romeo and Juliet _ could happen in that time!”

Virgil simply rolls his eyes, leaning into Roman’s side despite the dirty apron. It’s worth it. Roman runs warm. “How’d your audition go last night?”

“Despite my utter lack of practice, I think… I think I did alright, Virge.” Roman sighs contentedly into Virgil’s hair. “Where’s Remy?”

“She  _ was  _ right behind me, we finished rinsing our hair, like, half an hour ago,” Virgil yawns. “Hey, barista, hit me with that espresso.”

“You’re not on shift, nerd,” Roman teases.

_ “ And  _ you’ve already had four shots of espresso today,” Logan says, glaring at Virgil in warning as he flips through the textbooks. “I’m not even sure how you’re still alive with such a caffeine intake.”

“Diets are for losers!” Roman yells suddenly, pointing a finger in Logan’s face, and Logan huffs and rolls his eyes. “I’m getting the man a coffee!”

Roman storms away, and Logan winks at Virgil. Virgil winks back. This continues for a few minutes before both parties dissolve into muted laughter.

“What’s up, nerds!” Remy’s distinctive voice yells, and she charges through the doors with one pair of sunglasses across her eyes and another in her hair. “Ooh, my guy, you  _ know  _ what I’m here for!”

Roman meets her at the counter, multitasking as he prepares Virgil’s drink. “What’s that? Unwavering support of your best, most closest friend?”

“Nope,” she says, popping the ‘p,’ and Roman laughs and pulls up her usual on the register. “Your parents were looking for you, Ro. Emile wants to talk to Virgil about something.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s been checking up on Virge after therapy sessions to touch base and stuff,” Roman explains, shoving the groupheads into the espresso machine. “It’s nice having them around so much.”

“For real,” Remy agrees, leaning against the counter. “How long are they staying?”

“Who knows?” Roman laughs. “Mom stormed up here to matchmake and get me a lawyer, but then I matchmade myself  _ with  _ a lawyer, and she still hasn’t left!”

Remy snorts and reaches across the counter to grab her drink and then immediately takes a huge slurp through the straw. “Good stuff, Ro.” She takes another sip, flips her hair, and continues. “I know Em wants to stick around as much as she can, but Emile’s itching to get back to his patients.”

“Typical,” Roman jokes, picking up Virgil’s quadshot. He leads Remy over to their booth and slides the drink across to his emo boyfriend before sliding in beside him. Remy is quick to follow, squishing Virgil into the side as per usual, and Virgil groans. The coffee quickly placates him. “Hey, Lo, has Patton got any more interviewees down?”

“Quite a few, actually,” Logan says, sounding pleased. “He’s opened up a lot recently, given up a lot more control.”

“We’re already at- at four workers counting me, uh, when I come in,” Virgil says, “which is double the amount you  _used _ to have, so.”

Logan rolls his eyes playfully, but all their gazes move up to the counter rather quickly. “I heard the bell ring a lot, Ro, how’re things going?” Patton calls, dashing through the employee-only door. His outfit is  _ covered  _ in flour, but he still flops right down beside Logan when he sees the four of them. “You’re here!” He pauses, glancing around at them, at the textbooks, at Virgil’s quadshot. “Huh. I’m getting a bit of deja vu. Or, should I say…”

“You can’t keep doing this,” Logan groans, but Patton keeps going.

“Deja Brew!” he shouts, and Virgil is home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a happy ending! i love my boys oh man. this was really fun to write! i had a blast, and my artists were lovely to work with. can't wait to do this again!


End file.
